


Charles Xavier vs. The World

by ElegantFeatherDuster



Category: Scott Pilgrim - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantFeatherDuster/pseuds/ElegantFeatherDuster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier thinks his boring, crappy little life is just fine, at least until he accidentally invades the dream of someone named Erik Lensherr and accidentally-on-purpose finds himself along the way. Something like that, anyway. A story in which Charles Xavier is in a crappy band called the X-Men, has a bunch of weird friends who drink a lot, and gets out of fighting most of Erik Lensherr's seven evil ex's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 **HANK'S KITCHEN – Some time before noon**

“Charles is dating a high schooler!” someone announces at the breakfast table one morning.

“Is she hot?” Logan asks immediately through a mouthful of crumbling toast and jam. He looks scruffy, but that's hardly new. They've all come to terms with the fact that Logan often forgets to shave, gels his hair into stupid spikes, and will most definitely claw the eyes out of anyone who bothers him. It's just the kind of guy he is.

“How old are you, Charles?” Alex asks. “Like 28? You've been out of high school for-” He starts doing the math on his fingers to figure it out, but Charles is pleasantly busy with the coffee maker and messes up Alex's calculations with a gentle nudge to his mind.

“I'm not playing your games, children. And I'm 23!” He fills the mug half with coffee, half with milk, and adds so much sugar it probably exceeds his daily allowance. It's barely even coffee that way, but it's just the way Charles likes it.

“Not bad, not bad,” Logan says thoughtfully.

“What does that even mean?” adds Alex.

“Yeah, like, have you two ‘done it’ yet?” Hank asks calmly over his plate of pancakes. Charles splutters a little in response and hides behind his coffee cup until he can pull himself together.

“Well, I mean,” he stumbles, “mostly we just ride the bus and she tells me about how yearbook club went, and her friends and, you know, drama.”

“Have you kissed her?” Logan growls. Charles is suspicious that Logan is imagining things that Charles certainly does not want to see. He can feel Logan's mind pressing up against his own, but he resolutely ignores the shape it has taken and pastes on a smile.

“We almost held hands once, but she got embarrassed.”

“Well, don't you seem pleased with yourself,” Alex grumbles, rolling his eyes. Charles ignores that too, and really, he's getting far too good at this whole “ignoring stuff he doesn't want to hear” thing. It's one of many things he has learned from this particular group of friends.

“What's her name?” Logan asks, and that's a question Charles can answer. Nice and easy.

“Moira MacTaggert!” he announces proudly. “She's human.”

“Where'd you meet her?” Hank mumbles. Charles can tell he's still hungry and wants more pancakes, but he'll never ask even though it's his house they're in and he's the one who made them. Hank is pretty beast at making pancakes. So Charles just shoves his plate across the table without comment.

“I believe I mentioned the bus,” he grins, and plunges them all into the memory with a brush of two fingers against his temple.

 

 **THE BUS – A few nights ago**

“What about the McCone boy?” her mom asks. “He's a nice young man and it's time for you to get interested in boys.” Moira has been down this road with her mother before, but it doesn't seem to matter how many times she protests, her mom won't let up. She has this old-fashioned view about young girls and boys that Moira suspects stems from exposure to pop music and the movie Grease. It's particularly bad during the summer and the term “summer lovin'” has come up more than once.

“I'm not interested!” she says loudly, throwing her arms up in frustration. Without the support, the books on her lap fall off and splay themselves across the grimy bus floor. She drops to her knees immediately, embarrassed and scrambling to pick them up. There is already someone doing it and she looks up into the smiling face of a twenty-something man who says “Hi, I'm Charles Xavier” and holds out his hand.

[  _Charles Xavier_ ]  
[    _24 Years Old_ ]  
[ _Rating: Awesome_ ]

The memory dissolves and the four of them are sitting in the kitchen again.

“That's seriously the end to that story?” Alex is the first to speak up, a note of disgust in his voice.

“You met her on the bus with her mom?” Logan asks, laughing.

Charles crosses his arms and glares back at them both.

“Yes, I did.”

Chapter 1 – Dating a High Schooler

Charles shrugs on his parka and trudges back through the snow to his underground apartment. He could take the bus, but he's pleasantly full on coffee and pancakes and feels like walking. It turns out to be a bad idea, but after getting half-way there, taking the bus would feel more like giving up than anything.

“Before you hear it from someone else,” he says as soon as he gets in the door, “yes, I am dating a 17-year-old.”

His roommate looks up over his newspaper to watch Charles hang up his coat on the rack by the door.

[ _Sean Cassidy_ ]  
[ _25 Years Old_ ]  
[ _Rating: 7.5/10_ ]

“Is he cute?” Sean asks, his eyes the only part of him visible over the top of his paper. Charles laughs in response, as though the idea of dating a man is something that Charles Xavier simply “wouldn't do.” Sure, maybe there had been that guy in high school who had enjoyed dropping to his knees behind the gym, or that other guy in the bathroom at the club during Charles' graduation party several months before when Charles has gotten fantastically drunk. But it's still a ridiculous idea.

“I think that's more your department,” Charles quips as he strides across the tiny apartment to the even tinier adjoining bathroom.

“Does this mean we have to stop sleeping together?” Sean pipes up.

“Do you see another bed in here?” Charles calls out, and that's another thing about Charles. He shares a futon on the floor with his gay roommate. It's a long story and it's pretty gay. Don't ask.

 

 **Apartment Contents and Ownership List:**

Lame Poster – Charles  
Futon – SeanThrow Rug – Sean  
Lamp -Sean  
Easy Chair – Sean  
Kitchen and Everything in it – Sean  
Clothing – Charles  
More Clothing (better) – Sean  
Television – Sean  
Video Games – Sean  
Computer – Sean  
Table – Sean  
Toothbrush – Charles (Sean bought it)  
Socks on Charles' feet – Sean

“You're totally my bitch forever,” Sean says, going back to his paper. Charles makes a sound from the bathroom that sounds like agreement and Sean feels the weirdly comfortable pulse of Charles in his mind, not so much poking around as settling down to relax. It's something he got used to a long time ago.

 

 **THE NEXT DAY OR SOMETHING – Hank's House**

“You have to promise to be good,” Charles says, aiming a serious look at Moira. He invited her along to band practice today, but Charles is always a little nervous when people he knows meet other people he knows. It's just a thing.

“Of course!” she chirps.

“No, really, you have to be good.”

“Am I usually not?” she says, face falling a little. Her mom always says she's a perfect little angel, but mothers are biased about these kinds of things and not to be trusted.

“Just promise,” he says.

“I promise I'll be good,” she replies, concern still lingering at the edge of her voice. Logan opens the door, cigar clamped between his teeth and looks them both over. He looms in the open space, tall and broad-shouldered, and Moira is definitely intimidated.

“What are you making the poor girl say?” he growls at Charles.

“Oh, hey Logan. This is Moira MacTaggert,” Charles says casually, pushing past Logan like he doesn't weigh two hundred pounds and have adamantium claws sharper than the knives of a professional chef.

“I was just telling her to be good.”

Logan looks her over doubtfully and says, “Are you normally not?”

“I thought I was good,” she mumbles back and he shrugs, standing back to let her inside. It's cold out and Hank might have fur, but the rest of them don't really want to let out any more of the heat than strictly necessary. She scuttles inside and looks around at the room lined with musical instruments and equipment.

“That's Alex,” Charles tells her, gesturing at the cocky-looking boy behind the drums. “You can toss your coat wherever.” He strides off to start setting up and Moira stands still for a moment, caught in Alex's intense glare.

“So, uh, you play drums?” she forces out eventually.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” She promptly sits down on the sagging couch and tries to take up as little space as possible.

A large, furry, blue man wearing glasses comes around the corner and sits down next to her. Moira has to try very hard not to stare. She knows that mutations come in all shapes and sizes, but it's still a bit disconcerting sometimes.

“Hank McCoy,” he says, extending a furry hand for her to shake.

“Moira MacTaggert,” she replies. “What do you play?”

“I just live here,” he says. There's another awkward pause as she works up her courage.

“Are all of you mutants?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching Charles and Logan plug cables into amps and slip the straps of instruments around their necks. She goes quiet again, a little bit embarrassed to be the only human in the room.

“Let's start with Missile Crisis!” Charles grins, strumming his pick discordantly against the strings of his bass and making Logan rolls his eyes.

“It's not really called that,” he says. Then Alex lifts his sticks in the air and slams them together to set the beat of the song.

“WE ARE THE X-MEN,” he shouts and then the song begins. The X-Men are shit and everyone knows it, even them. But Moira is 17, has no taste in music, and has never seen anyone play live before in her life except for that Chinese girl who got her piano recital accepted into the school talent show. She also has a growing love for Charles that blinds her to most of his worse traits, the culmination of which means that Moira becomes instantly obsessed. They are all pretty sure they can actually see the giant shiny stars growing in her eyes as the song progresses.

“Dude, that was way too fast,” Logan tells Alex once they finish and the amp stops playing out the last, unnecessarily long note that Charles is squeezing out of his base with a pedal.

“Boo hoo, pussy boy,” Alex snaps back, flipping him the bird.

“Let's do it again,” Charles says. So they do.

It only makes things worse.

“The X-Men, wow.” Moira says like a zombie as Charles loads her onto the bus later on. He doesn't even feel like giving her mind the friendly goodbye nudge he usually does because it feels too much like pink, girly shit at the moment and he can't stand that.

“I'll see you after school tomorrow, okay?” he says. She nods vaguely, and since she's Moira she'll definitely remember it some time before they're supposed to meet. But right now the chances of getting a response out of her are pretty slim so Charles pays her fare for her and waves as the bus rolls down the street, crunching over fresh snow.

 

 **AFTERWARDS**

Charles slumps against the wall on Hank's bed.

“ _Get your ass off my pillow,_ ” Hank thinks. He says nothing, but Charles shifts over a little anyway. The germs that his ass gained from the scummy seats on the bus are probably pretty awful. He can understand the desire not to have those same nasty germs transferred to the place where someone puts his face for a significant portion of each day.

“She seems alright,” Logan says. Coming from him, that's a beautiful compliment and Charles beams.

“You think so?” he says.

“I could go for one myself,” Logan leers. Alex gives him a scathing look.

“You're even older than Charles,” he says and then to Charles, “are you evil or just really happy?” Charles blinks at him and takes a quick dip into his mind to work out the Alex-to-English translation of that statement.

“Are you asking if I'm a user?” he asks, giving Alex a blank look.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I'm offended, Alex,” Charles tells him, holding a hand to his injured heart.

“Wounded even?” Logan adds.

“Hurt!” he announces, widening his eyes and giving Alex a puppy-dog look.

“Okay, whatever, shut the fuck up,” Alex says, shrugging, and turns to watch Hank play Starship Titanic and harass the parrot. Logan tries to start an arm punching challenge that Charles is too lazy to keep up with, and a few bruises later Logan gives him up as a bad job and opens the window so he can hang out and smoke. Hank tends to complain when his sheets smell.

 

 **THE NEXT MORNING – Charles' (and Sean's) Apartment**

The phone is ringing. It's been ringing for several minutes. Charles rolls over in the darkness of morning and stares at the phone. “Charles,” he can hear it saying, “answer me, you bitch.” When he finally does, the first thing his sister says to him is almost exactly the same.

“Did I wake you up?” Raven says. “Charles, it's 12:30.”

[   _Raven Xavier_ ]  
[    _19 Years Old_ ]  
[ _Younger Sister_ ]  
[ _Rating: T for Teen_ ]

“I've been up for hours,” he lies, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes as he tries to will the sleep-rough quality from his voice.

“Yeah, okay. So what's this I hear about you dating a 16-year-old?” she asks. He can just imagine her too, sitting there with her perfect hair and her perfect legs crossed in the coffee shop where she works. It's just not fair that someone can get up in the morning and just look that perfect simply by willing it.

“She's seventeen!” he yelps as soon as the question filters through his brain properly. It takes a few tries. “And how do you know!”

“Sean told me.”

“That gossipy bitch!” Charles says, standing up. He holds the phone between his cheek and his shoulder while he goes looking for pants.

“I called last night, but you were at practice. Anyway, scandal” she chirps. “Who is this mysterious boyfriend?”

“It's a girl,” Charles says. “Her name's Moira.”

“What's her super power?” Raven likes to call mutations super powers for one reason or another and even Charles' degree in genetics hasn't been able to beat it out of her.

“She's human,” he sighs.

“Really? A human high-school girl? You're crazy,” she says. He groans and slides down the wall, pants on but still shirtless, and drops his head into his hand.

“It's a Catholic school too,” he says. There's really no use hiding this stuff from his sister. It will only be worse if she hears about it through someone else. He can hear her cackling madly on the other end of the line and waits for the torture to subside.

“The uniforms and everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, Charlie, you haven't-?”

“No!” he says quickly. “We haven't even held hands.” She seems satisfied with that but a beat later her voice has dropped into a serious tone and he knows he's in trouble now.

“Why are you doing this?” she says.

“I don't know,” he replies quietly. It's not something he can explain, even to himself. It's really just easier to ignore the annoying tug in the back of his head that calls him a coward and a lot of other things he'd rather not mention.

“It's been a year. Are you moving on or just being insane?” She sounds worried now, and damn it, he's supposed to be the older sibling here.

“I'll let you know,” he says even more quietly than before. He's not even sure Raven hears him, but she probably doesn't need to. He lets her chatter on about her life and her friends and the boy she slept with last week but isn't really sure if she likes or not. She's pretty sure he won't like her blue form and that's usually a deal breaker, but he just so hot. It's comforting, in a way, to sit in the dark of his windowless apartment and let his sister's voice wash over him.

 

 **SEVERAL HOURS LATER**

When Sean comes home from work, Charles immediately recruits him to go pick up Moira. Sean isn't really sure why he comes, because he really has no interest in Charles' fake high school girlfriend, but he has a suspicious feeling that Charles' powers might have something to do with it.

“There are boys there too,” Charles says, patting his arm. “Don't worry.” He goes on to compare the situation to this type of micro-organism that's ridiculously rare and has an unpronounceable name. Apparently, when it meets another of its kind they immediately fall in love and have lots and lots of baby micro-organisms. But if the environment can't support them all, the parents will start feeding on the young because they're bigger and better.

“That's not like this at all,” Sean points out, making Charles stop and think about it.

“You're right. I guess you're just coming along to creep on cute Catholic teenagers,” he replies easily.

“Thanks for that,” Sean says, nudging him in the side.

When Moira appears, she immediately runs up to Charles and wraps herself around his arm. It would be kind of cute if it didn't make Sean want to puke.

“This is Sean, my cool gay roommate,” Charles tells her, patting her on the head like some kind of pet.

“Want to know who is my class is gay?” she asks cheerfully. The moment Sean says yes, Charles starts pushing him in the other direction and announces it's time for him to go.

“What the fuck. You suck!” Sean tells him. “I can't believe you.” Moira smiles and waves pleasantly at him as he walks away, still clinging to Charles' arm in a way that Sean is determined to call “limpet-like.”

“You're too good for him!” Sean yells back at her.

Charles spends the rest of the day with Moira. She talks about this boy who no one knew was a mutant until they found him scampering up walls in an empty classroom and eating flies out of the air. He always was a little slimy, she adds. No one was actually all that surprised. Then she tells him about yearbook club and how weird it is that it's almost all humans this year. Last year there was this guy who could slow down time or work double speed or something and how helpful he was with meeting deadlines. Charles nods along and smiles, absolutely set on convincing himself that this idle chatter is the most interesting thing in the world. It's so simple, and so easy, and that's where he stops himself thinking.

They go to Goodwill, and leave without buying anything. It's all ugly anyway and not in the funny way. Charles convinces her to get pizza and a soda because there's a place on the corner with this great deal. She laughs at the way he folds his pizza in half “New York style” but does hers the same way. Her mind admits that it does actually make the pizza easier to eat, and Charles feels satisfied.

She asks to see his apartment, and he gets out of it by offering to show her his childhood home. Her jaws drops when she sees the house, castle really, but he's not amused by it like he thinks he should be. It's kind of embarrassing if he's honest, and there's too much history, too much emotional trauma that he hasn't dealt with connected with this place for him to be comfortable here.

“I'll walk you to the bus stop, okay?” he says and takes Moira by the arm. He can feel her mind wondering at how easy his childhood must have been, and it makes him nauseous. Blocking out her mind entirely becomes his only viable option after that. He waves goodbye at the bus stop like he always does, the perfect smile plastered on his face that he learned when he was far, far too young.

That night he lays awake next to Sean and lets himself float through the minds of people in the house next door, the people down the street, and stretch out over the town. Sometimes looking at the troubles of other people, like watching a film, is so much easier than examining the thoughts in his own head.

Charles falls asleep like that and dreams of the lake at his old house. He dreams of swimming in it and in this dream world it isn't iced over and cold like it is now, it's warm and too-green and beautiful in a way he doesn't remember it ever being before. It's luxurious and everything he wanted, but as Charles slips deeper into the dream the lake becomes the ocean, sharp and biting and freezing cold in a way that seeps into his bones and makes him shudder. There's another man there too, drowning and struggling desperately to pull what Charles knows without looking is a submarine up from under the water.

He wraps his arms around the man's chest before he knows what he's doing.

 _You can't, you'll drown._

He can feel the confused jumble of German and panic and _whoareyouwhyareyouinmyheadgetout_ and just presses in deeper, sees flares of hot angry pain.

 _You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you're going to die._

Deeper, still, and he sees hidden beneath it all the terrifying feeling that maybe the man wouldn't really mind drowning here after all. There's a resignation there that makes Charles' want to recoil and sooth the pain away all at the same time.

 _Please, Erik,_ he begs, _calm your mind._ Erik goes limp in his arms, maybe too tired too carry on or maybe shocked into submission. Charles can hear him thinking that this isn't how it goes. It's usually different than this. This is wrong.

They break the surface of the water and Erik pulls desperate air into his lungs and starts shouting.

“Get off me!”

Charles lets him go.

“Get out of my dream!”

Charles just stares.

“Who are you?”

Charles wakes up suddenly and stares into inky blackness. He can feel the soft, sleepy edges of Sean snoring beside him and knows without a single doubt that the dream he just had wasn't his own.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Chapter 2 – Do You Know Him? _

Sean takes Charles out for sushi and invites their mutual friend Remy to come along. Remy is a mutant, has this weird addiction to poker, and speaks with a thick Cajun accent that means they smile and nod without understanding a word of what he says more often than not. He and Charles probably became friends simply because Charles can skim the top of his mind and understand what in the world he's talking about. There isn't much else they have in common.

Charles and Sean start bickering over the last piece of salmon, Remy solves the issue by taking it for himself and they all lean back with full stomachs.

“Thanks for lunch,” Charles says, smiling at Sean.

“Sure. Least I can do,” Sean replies, waving him off. Strictly speaking, Charles doesn't need to mooch off other people. But he got used to it back in the old days when his mother was still married to his step-father and Charles point blank refused to ask either of them for any kind of help.

“I just remembered, I had the weirdest dream last night,” Charles says, frowning deeply as he pulls the full memory up from the deep of his brain. He lifts his fingers to his head, ready to show them, but Remy grabs his hand and says something about how little he actually cares.

The thing is, Charles can't stop thinking about it. He runs the dream over and over in his head and wonders who it belongs to. People don't always look the same in their dreams, it takes a very self-aware person to look the same in a dream and unfortunately, Charles has learned the hard way that the quality is pretty rare.

He picks up Moira from school, makes the motions in a mechanical, semi-conscious daze, and listens to her chatter without paying attention. They end up at the tiny public library nearby because Moira needs to check some stuff out for a research project, and really, he thinks, that's what the internet is for.

“This library reminds me of grade school,” he says, looking around at the old shelves and well-used books.

“That must feel like a long time ago,” she replies. He can hear the slightly sour note in her voice, the worry that their age difference actually does mean something.

“Let's just get out of here,” he shrugs, taking an arm-full of books from her and striding back towards the check-out desk.

That's when he sees him.

He's almost exactly the same, and that in itself is surprising. But Charles is too busy staring at Erik and thinking “ _what the fuck. He actually exists. This is real life.”_

“Do you know that guy?” Moira asks, nudging him gently from behind with her stack of books to get him to stop blocking the narrow staircase. Charles starts moving again with a jerk and clatters his way noisily down the rest of the stairs.

“No. No, I don't think so,” he says all in a rush. “What was he doing here?”

“Uh,” she says, giving him a vaguely unhappy look. “Probably delivering that giant package he came in with and didn't take with him.”

He thinks about it as the elderly librarian checks out all of Moira's books. He thinks about it on the bus to Hank's house. He thinks about it while they're setting up for practice and thinks about it straight through the first three songs they play.

“Charles,” Logan says, and has to repeat himself again before Charles looks over. “You played one note for that entire set.” Charles doesn't actually remember what he says in reply, but it must have made no sense whatsoever but Alex chimes in after that.

“Is your girlfriend distracting you?” he says. Charles looks over to find that, yes, his girlfriend is actually present and he hasn't noticed the entire night. Hank is stretched out across his sofa, listening and reading a textbook at the same time, and Moira is sitting there with that awestruck look she always has at practice.

“I'll be quieter!” Moira says, shrinking back into the couch. He wonders if it's possible to be quieter than silent and shakes himself out of the daze, determined not to fuck up this next song.

 

 **THAT NIGHT**

Charles is standing in a very posh hotel room. Before him, the wall is covered in a map and dozens of photos, the faces in which he can't quite make out. The whole thing has that fuzzy dream-quality where the feelings of things are just as important as how they look. It feels old, like it's been there for a long time, and there's a kind of angry resignation as well.

He turns 180 degrees, eyes gliding past the windows with an expansive city view, and finds himself facing the same man from last night. Only this time, Erik is sitting against the headboard of a luxurious bed wearing an equally plush and luxurious bathrobe in deep blue-black.

“I'm in your dream again,” Charles says, matter-of-factly.

“Good call,” Erik replies and sends what looks like a coin flying at his head.

Charles wakes up and resigns himself to a sleepless night staring at the black ceiling and listening to Sean mumble something in his sleep something about video games and hot young boys.

 

 **SEVERAL DAYS LATER OR SOMETHING**

“Where are we going?” Charles asks for what must be the fourth time.

“Man, I am not even telling you at this point,” Logan says as Hank plods along in the background.

“Anna Marie's party, you idiot,” Alex tells him.

“Didn't you two break up?” Charles says to Logan. “I thought you did.”

Before Logan can answer with what promises to be an aggressive suggestion to mind his own damn business, Alex says “they're on again this week” and that seems to settle it. Logan and Anna have kind of a weird relationship.

An hour later they're all standing around holding plastic cups filled with beer and chatting about nothing in particular. Alex walks away without saying anything and Charles hears the thought “ _I'm going to pee out of boredom_ ” float away with him. The party kind of sucks. Logan has been chugging beers since they got here, and is currently trying to impress nobody in particular by throwing cups up in the air and cut them to little pieces before they hit the ground. Charles wanders away, toying with his half-empty cup and looks for someone else to talk to. Then he notices Armando sitting on the stairs and is hit with sudden inspiration.

“Hey Armando,” Charles asks, “you know everyone right?”

“Well, I wouldn't say everyone. But yeah, I guess.” Armando shrugs and smiles up at him. He's an easy-going kind of guy that seems to get along with everyone no matter the situation. It always amuses Charles a little when people's personalities and mutations match up. He wrote a psych paper on just that in college.

“Do you know a guy who slicks his hair back like this?” He sticks his hand up in front of his forehead in some vague imitation of hair that no one should be able to identify. But Armando knows everyone, so it kind of works.

“You mean Erik Lensherr?” he says.

“I don't know. Maybe,” Charles replies, leaning against the railing and looking more interested.

“I heard he was coming tonight. You should look around. I hear he's hard core,” Armando says. But Charles is already several paces away, scanning the heads in the crowd. He recognizes a lot of the faces, even if he doesn't know most of the names. He can feel the faint hum of all of their minds, blurring together into the warm, party-drunk feeling he's used to at things like this. But what Charles is really wants, and what he's looking for, is the sharp quicksilver of Erik's mind, glimpsed only briefly through a dream.

He finds Erik leaning against a wall looking utterly bored with the proceedings. A quick gesture of his power is all it takes to confirm that, yes, all Erik really wants is to go home. Charles slides casually across the wall next to him and looks around at the party before casting a glance at Erik. He's flipping a coin between his fingers, well, floating really, and that means he's a mutant like Charles. It's strangely comforting in a way and maybe that's what makes Charles relax a little too much. He wonders exactly what the mutation is, whether it's control over metal or the ability to manipulate gravity in a limited sized field.

“Hey, what's up?” he says, painfully casual. He's certain as soon as he says it that even without a gift, anyone would be able to tell he's nervous.

 

 _ Chapter 3 – This One Guy _

“Nothing,” Erik says. He doesn't look at Charles at first, but after the first quick glance he does a double take. It's a feeling a little like deja vu and a little like saying hello to a close friend. There's something about Charles with his old-man sweater and bright blue eyes. But then Charles opens his mouth, words fall out, and Erik is done. Absolutely done.

“It's a very groovy OCA2 gene you have. Did you know that scientists now think everyone with blue eyes comes from one common ancestor? One person with one mutation, and here we all are looking much more lovely than those boring brown-eyed people.”

There's a long, awkward pause and then Charles stumbles over himself to say, “I'll leave you alone forever now” and runs off the other direction.

“Thanks,” Erik says. But the thing is, Charles doesn't leave him alone at all. He hides behind potted plants and sofas and people half his size. When Erik lurks by the beer table, Charles keeps chugging, spilling, or handing away his drink in order to have an excuse to get more. Erik moves to stand by the bathrooms and suddenly Charles need to use one (not surprisingly really, considering the beer.)

In the end, Charles stalks him until he leaves the party.

Charles watches him go, turns on his heel, and makes for the first person he knows.

“Hank, Hank, he's real,” he says, holding onto Hank's large shoulders. Charles remembers when Hank was a gangly, tall, mostly hairless nerd and perhaps that's why he's more than willing to manhandle him in ways other people are scared to.

“Who?” Hank says. So Charles moves on to Armando.

“I hear he's German,” Armando tells him. “But I don't know much else. Ask Anna, I think she invited him.” So Charles moves on to Anna.

“Hey Anna, did you invite Erik?” he says before anything else. She turns on him, Logan towering over her shoulder, and crosses her arms.

“Yes. He came into the place where I work a couple of times to deliver packages,” she says suspiciously. “Just got a job here working for Amazon.”

“And you made friends with him like you do with everyone ever?” Charles says.

“Sort of. He's not exactly an easy person to talk to, but he agreed to come when I asked him,” she says it with a finality that means she wants to stop Charles right now.

“Didn't you say he just had some big break-up?” Logan says suddenly.

“Yes, but I didn't want Charles to know that,” she hisses back. Charles blinks and holds up his hands.

“Hey, I'm just curious. Completely harmless,” he says quickly. Anna obviously doesn't believe him, but really, what does Erik's dating history have to do with anything? Nothing whatsoever. Logan slings an arm around him and Charles leans into it companionably.

“Charles is dating a high schooler,” Logan announces. “His mourning period is over.”

“'Whatever,” Anna says, “just don't bother the man. I'm not even sure he had a break-up. Just mentioned some guy named Shaw a few times.”

Charles has a few more drinks, which is probably a few more than he should be having. He even chugs a yard of beer just for the amusement of a bunch of people he doesn't know. But the feeling of all of those people shouting at him in unison is the kind of rush he likes and the potential repercussions of his actions are the farthest things from his mind.

 

 **A FEW HOURS LATER**

Charles is curled up under the blankets on their shared futon. He can already feel the disgusting feeling of the hangover sinking its claws into him and wants nothing more than to go to sleep and ignore the entire world.

Sean waltzes in through the front door and twirls his scarf around.

“Guess who's druuuuuunk!” he shouts, grinning.

“I guess Sean,” Charles mutters, not even opening his eyes.

“You guess right!” Sean says, and flops down, clothing and all, onto the futon and across Charles' legs.

“Ow,” Charles says without any feeling.

“How is my dear Charlie tonight?” Sean says, wiggling into a place where Charles' legs aren't cutting into his back.

“Okay,” Charles says, “I sort of met this guy.” Sean lifts his head like he wants to be interested, but the weight of too much liquor drags him back down with a soft thud.

“I think I keep dropping into his dreams accidentally,” Charles continues quietly.

“Dude you get into people's dreams all the time.”

“What? No I don't,” Charles groans. “Lies.”

“Yeah you do. Or drag the rest of us poor souls into your stupid dreams. Have you seen him jacking off or something?” Sean asks lazily.

“No. I saved him from drowning, though.”

“It's a dream. He wouldn't have drowned,” Sean mumbles and starts trying to wiggle out of his warm, winter coat and pants. Charles goes quiet and scoots over enough to let Sean stretch out in the right direction and burrow under the covers.

 

 **THE NEXT MORNING (OR TECHNICALLY AFTERNOON)**

Charles wakes to a vicious headache and the smell of bacon. Sean is already up and frying things in the kitchen. He also left a bunch of glasses of water and an aspirin next to Charles' pillow, which is surprisingly kind of him.

“Bacon!” Sean announces happily. “Bacon is perfect for hangovers!” Charles sits upright and runs fingers through his messy hair.

“Bleh,” he says by way of response and promptly chugs half of the water in one go.

They sit companionably, Sean in the armchair and Charles still half in bed, and eat their bacon and eggs. It turns out Sean isn't feeling much better than Charles is, but bacon is just so damn exciting that it perked him up for a bit. That and Charles knows he takes secret pleasure in being entirely too awake and perky when other people are hungover.

“Do you need any CDs?” Charles asks suddenly. Sean shoots him a look and thinks “ _what the fuck do you think I have Pirate Bay bookmarked for?_ ” Charles laughs and crawls off the futon towards the computer and types “amazon.com” into the address bar. He doesn't need any CDs either and his friends seem to own every game ever made. But he orders some movie called Wanted with Angelina Jolie in it because Logan thinks she's hot and the movie Jaws because he's never seen it and people keep giving him shit. He really just wants to see the shark eat people.

He checks his email too, since he's there, and finds a bunch of spam asking if he wants his penis to be bigger or if he wants to see naked, underage girls have a naked pillow fight. There's also a really weird one that says “concerning our fight” in the header, but Charles just clicks the trashcan and empties his entire inbox.

As soon as he's done, Charles makes his way over to the door and leans against the wall expectantly.

“Are you waiting for that stuff you just ordered?” Sean asks him eventually, taking both of their plates to the sink.

“Yeah? How long does stuff usually take to get delivered?” Charles doesn't order things online and genuinely has no idea.

“Usually a few days,” Sean shrugs as Charles looks suddenly crestfallen. “Maybe a week.” A few days is a few days too long and a week is even worse.

Behind him, the doorbell rings and Charles jumps up with a grin and yanks the door open. Moira tackles him, wrapping arms around his neck and squeezing him half to death. He's actually grateful for it, because it means she won't see the disappointment evident on his face.

“Remember how we're hanging out today? Hi Sean,” she says and Charles is suddenly aware that she walked here from the bus stop were he was supposed to meet her. She's a little annoyed, but she's almost over it already and it's him that feels terrible about the whole thing. Sean waves back and doesn't seem at all concerned that he isn't wearing pants.

“How could I have forgotten?” he replies with a patent Xavier smile.

They go out and do all the normal things. She talks about school and how her friends are all having this big drama about who should go out with whom. Charles nods along and makes the necessary comments, but for once he finds he can't pay attention. He even finds himself wondering if doing this was ever interesting, and immediately crushes the thought in its infancy.

“Is this cute?” she asks and he nods. She buys the coat because she honestly thinks he likes it and they leave the store and trudge down the street.

“Hey,” she says sweetly. “I'll walk myself to the bus stop. You live the other way, right?”

“Are you sure?” he asks, still a little guilty about that morning. Generally, Charles tries to be more considerate than that. It doesn't always pan out, but he tries.

“Absolutely,” she says and then she leans forward and kisses him. It's not that Charles hasn't kissed girls before, and he's never had a problem with the idea of kissing Moira. But the moment it happens he feels wronged somehow and jerks his head back sharply. She looks a little hurt, and he immediately inserts himself into her head to sooth it all out before he can think about how rude that is.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he says in a rush and all but runs the other direction, leaving her standing confused on the sidewalk.

 

 **SATURDAY – Hank's House**

Logan announces he got them a gig.

Moira is definitely the most excited.

Logan is busy silently freaking out about how much they suck.

 

 **SUNDAY MORNING (TECHNICALLY STILL BEFORE NOON)**

Charles is still asleep. They stayed up late practicing the night before, and he's pretty sure he can use that to justify today, even though he almost always sleeps in until noon. Mornings are just really not his thing.

His dream changes from one thing to another and Charles realizes that he's walking down his street but there's this weird double-vision thing going on that feels like he's looking out someone else's eyes. Then the eyes that aren't his look down and read the address on an Amazon label that says “Charles Xavier” and his address.

Charles wakes up suddenly and hops to the door whilst simultaneously trying to pull on a pair of pants. He yanks open the door, letting in a flood of sunlight that hurts his eyes, and comes face to face with a very surprised Erik Lensherr. Erik has his hand half-extended towards the doorbell and glances between it and Charles face. In his other hand is a package, the same package, with Charles' name on it.

They stare at each other.

“Do you want to go for coffee?” Charles says without thinking.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_ Chapter 4 – Erik, Come Closer _

“No,” Erik says easily and digs a pen out of the vaguely military canvas bag slung over his shoulder. Charles stands there for a moment and isn't entirely sure what to say. He hadn't actually considered what he was going to say if Erik turned him down. Erik holds out a slip for him to sign, but Charles refuses to do it and stares at him.

“I was just in your head. That's how I knew to answer the door,” he says. “I think I've also been getting into your dreams.”

“Oh, that's how I recognize you,” Erik replies, not looking terribly interested. “You're a telepath.” People can't usually identify Charles' mutation right off the bat like that and it takes him a moment to get his head about what Erik just said.

“Oh, yeah. We should hang out,” he says automatically.

“If I agree, will you sign for this?” Erik sighs. Charles nods and signs the paper without looking at what it says.

“Tonight at eight?” he asks hopefully.

“Sure,” Erik shrugs. “But only if you do up your pants next time.” Charles looks down to see he forgot to zip up his fly. Erik does it for him as he walks away.

  
 **SO YEAH**

Charles arrives five minutes late and finds Erik already sitting on one of the benches, flipping that same silver coin around his fingers. He's only late because he remembered that he promised coffee and stopped to get it on the way. He holds one out to Erik.

“What are you doing there?” Charles says stupidly.

“Waiting for you,” Erik replies, standing and stuffing the coin back into his pocket as he takes the proffered cup.

“Oh, right,” Charles says. “It's getting warm. I guess I didn't really need the wool coat, did I?”

“Not really,” Erik shrugs. He's wearing the same black turtleneck and leather jacket from earlier that day. Charles would make fun of him for wearing turtlenecks at all in this day and age, but Charles wears knit sweaters that look like they're from the sixties, so he's not really in a position to comment.

“What's with the patch on your arm?” Erik asks after a moment of silent walking. Charles cranes his neck to look at the sewn-on badge, despite knowing what it says, and laughs.

“We all have these really cool code names,” he announces. “Logan is Wolverine, Alex is Havok, Hank is Beast, Sean is Banshee, my sister is Mystique, Remy is Gambit, Anna is Rogue-” Erik cuts him off with an “I don't know these people,” and Charles shuts up.

“So you're Professor X?” Erik says, sounding doubtful. Charles can tell that Erik thinks it's the most stupid nickname of them all and he laughs awkwardly in response.

“Err, yeah. It happened during a time when everyone was studying for finals and I kept giving them the answers to study sheets and stuff. So, you know,” Charles says with a shrug.

“Are you all massive nerds, or is it just you?” Charles can see how people might think Erik is a little bit of an asshole. It comes across in his voice and the way he holds himself, but Charles can feel the bubbly feeling of amusement beneath his tone and it makes him smile.

“I'm probably the worst,” he admits sheepishly, sipping at his coffee. He ordered two of the one he likes, with lots of chocolate and whipped cream, because he didn't know what else to do. Erik is thinking that it's too sweet, and Charles makes a mental note to remember that next time.

“How did you end up in Westchester anyway?” Charles asks.

“They offered me a job here,” Erik shrugs. “I've heard New York is nice.” Charles is hit with a jumble of mixed-up emotions that accompanies the statement and pulls out what he can.

“Old boyfriend?” he hedges. There's a name too, Shaw, but Charles has learned not to freak people out too much right off the bat.

“Not exactly,” Erik says shortly.

“Sorry,” Charles mumbles. “Are you even...?”

“Even what?” Erik says. It's so, so easy sometimes to forget that people can't just pull the ends of ideas from his mind like he can from them. Charles actually has to finish sentences.

“Uh... into guys?”

“I'm opportunistic,” Erik replies, and when Charles tips his head with an endearingly confused expression, he adds “I don't really care either way.”

“That's cool,” Charles says because he honestly doesn't know what else to say. He downs the last of his coffee, getting the gritty, slight bitter chocolate that always settles at the bottom of the cup.

“What do you do?” Erik asks pleasantly, as though they haven't just had a really awkward conversation.

“I'm between jobs,” Charles tells him, which is only half a lie. He's never really felt any real urge to get a job, and it's not like he really needs to make money.

“Between what and what?” Erik asks, smiling and displaying far too many teeth.

“Uh, being a teenager and something that actually interests me?” Charles laughs. He doesn't tell Erik that he's always wanted, just a little bit, to be a teacher. It's a little dream he keeps in his heart and doesn't look at too carefully most days. His life is just fine as it is.

“Ah, I see,” Erik says knowingly, heading for a swing set. It's a little discordant to see a tall, strong man trying to cram himself onto a small plastic seat, and Charles starts laughing as he sits down in the next swing over.

“I don't even want to talk about my last job,” Erik says, quirking what might almost, with a certain amount of imagination, be a smile at Charles.

“Maybe in another chapter,” Charles says and pushes off with his feet to get the swing moving.

“By the way, I'm sorry for butting into your dreams. Sometimes it just happens,” Charles says as he swings past a stationary Erik.

“It's okay. Sorry for kicking you out all the time,” Erik replies and it strikes Charles as an odd thing to say. They're Erik's dreams and he has the right to kick out whoever he pleases. Charles shouldn't even be there in the first place.

“You sleep with a guy, right?” Erik asks while Charles is still trying to think about the last thing Erik said. It throws him off a bit, and his response is a bit more undignified than he'd like.

“We just share the bed! It's the only one, you know. We have to share it. There's no choice” he says quickly and watches as Erik starts laughing again. It's a nice expression on him and Charles gets the impression it's not one that very many people see. It's entirely different than the sarcastic little barking laugh Erik uses when he feels like he probably should, regardless of how he really feels.

“Calm down. You're too harmless to ask me out while you're standing in your boyfriend's apartment.” That sends a pang of guilt through Charles as he remembers that he does, in fact, have a girlfriend. He's fiercely grateful that Erik's gift is not telepathy like his own and laughs along with the joke.

Charles swings his legs, pushing to get higher, and looks up to see the first slow flakes drifting through the light of a street lamp. He becomes aware of the drop in temperature since they got here and drags his feet to slow down, buttoning up his coat. Erik stands with him and they descend the concrete stairs from the park as the snow starts to fall harder. Charles isn't really sure where they're going, but it must be somewhere nearby because Erik doesn't feel at all worried. Either way, the walk is long enough for both of them to get cold and unpleasantly damp.

Erik leads him up the steps to a tiny, cute house painted an unassuming shade of soft blue. It doesn't match Erik at all, but Charles learns from Erik's mind that it's a rental and just happened to be a good price and a good location.

“I'd offer you a coffee,” Erik says, dropping his keys into a dish by the door, “but I don't think you need more of a buzz.” Charles nods and follows him into the kitchen anyway.

“Maybe tea?” he suggests.

“I suppose that would suit your proper, British sensibilities, wouldn't it?” Erik shoots him another toothy grin and Charles blinks at him in surprise. People aren't usually able to identify the soft, time-faded lilt in his voice or the way he pronounces some of his vowels. Then again, Erik is fast proving himself to be nothing at all like “people” and a whole lot like someone Charles would very much like to know better.

He pulls out two mugs and instead of filling them and microwaving them hot, he actually puts a kettle on the old-fashioned way. It doesn't matter that Erik is several paces away, inspecting the contents of his cabinet; he simply floats the kettle to the sink, fills it, and sets it on the stove with a vague hand gesture. Charles likes watching him, in a weirdly domestic kind of way, and wonders just how strong Erik's powers really are.

Charles takes a seat at the table and waits, trying to convince his body to stop shivering.

“I'm going to get changed,” Erik says and strides towards the door. “I'll bring you a blanket.”

The kettle starts whistling while Erik is still away so Charles climbs out of his chair to take it off the stove. The mugs already have teabags in them, so Charles fills them and, not knowing what else to do, brings them back to the table and sits down again. He pokes at the teabag with a spoon, Erik continues to be absent, and after another minute, Charles goes looking for him. Just to make sure he didn't slip and break his head against the radiator, Charles tell himself. Certainly not because Charles is cold or misses the feeling of his mind already.

He finds Erik in his bedroom and the first thing he sees when he steps in through the door is a whole lot more skin than he expected to see. Erik isn't wearing anything from the waist-up and that's one thing Charles can say he learned today. The term “abs of steel” applies quite nicely.

“Uh...” Charles says eloquently. Erik just gives him a look that involves raised eyebrows. “Sorry. Didn't know where you went and I was...cold.”

Erik turns and steps towards him. Charles' coat is hanging next to Erik's in the front hall, but his shirt is still unpleasantly damp and raising goosebumps along his arms. So when Erik starts unbuttoning his shirt for him from the bottom up, it both makes perfectly logical sense and sets off every alarm bell in his head. Charles is pretty sure he's freaking the fuck out right now, but he doesn't move an inch, even when Erik pushes the shirt back off his shoulders and presses up against him, warm skin on warm skin. Erik doesn't say a word, but Charles feels the ghost of a thought, _I'm cold too_ , float by. Charles pushes him back a little and just stares openly. Erik is genuinely okay with this, whatever this fucking is.

So Charles kisses him.

The gesture instigates a flurry of movement wherein they both divest themselves of their pants and underwear and Erik backs him towards the bed.

“What about our tea?” Charles stutters.

“'What about it?” Erik asks, flicking the covers aside and pushing Charles down. Erik straddles his hips and he looks up at Erik in a daze. Charles is down to his socks, and god he hates people who have sex with their socks on. It's not actually sexy in any way, so he kind of hopes he'll get the chance to take them off before Erik really gets going.

He's thinking about this, and oh god, so much skin, so much perfect skin, when Erik rolls over onto his back and announces he's changed his mind.

Charles stares at him, utterly stunned. Erik means it.

“I'm not going to have sex with you,” Erik says. “But I'm not going to send you home in this storm. You can sleep here.”

“Oh,” Charles says dully. “Okay. You know, I'm actually kind of okay with this.” Erik snorts softly in disbelief and turns his head on the pillow to look at Charles.

“I'm not kidding. I don't think I'm ready for this. I was thinking about my socks,” Charles says, a smile creeping onto his lips.

Erik glances down, pauses a beat, and then starts laughing, a full honest kind of noise. Charles joins in, feeling warm and pleased, and they lay there and laugh until they can't breathe anymore and have to calm down and resort to grinning like idiots instead.

 

 **THE NEXT MORNING – Erik's House**

Charles wakes up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside the window and Erik brushing his teeth in the bathroom. It's not really something he should be happy about, strictly speaking, but he's warm and comfortable, so he smiles anyway.

“You have to get up,” Erik says from the bathroom.

“What time is it?” Charles asks without moving an inch.

“Almost eight. I need to go to work.”

Charles forces himself to sit up, and turns his stupid smile on Erik. He doesn't smile back, but Charles can feel him laughing inside his head and it's enough.

“I need to make the bed,” Erik says and glares at Charles until he gets up.

“Hey,” Charles says when they're standing outside Erik's house, “can this not be a one night stand? I mean, for one thing I didn't even get any.” Erik shrugs and Charles is determined to take that as a yes.

“My band has a gig at Cerebro tomorrow night at nine,” Charles tells him on impulse.

“You have a band?” Erik says slowly. It's obvious how he feels about the idea.

“Yeah, we suck. Please say you'll come.”

“Okay,” Erik says. “Tomorrow at nine. I'll see you there.” He walks away, bag slung over his shoulders, and Charles turns around to walk home in the other direction.

 

 **EVENTUALLY**

“Close the door, damn you,” Sean says as soon as he walks in the door. He's bundled up in a blanket with a cup of something steamy and looks as though he might have a cold.

“Hey, I walked five miles to get here,” Charles says, hanging his coat up and pulling off soggy shoes.

“As your mother, I have been worried sick,” Sean mumbles, completely deadpan. “You have mail on the counter.” Charles goes to pick it up and reads the return address, one he doesn't know, before opening the letter and scanning the contents.

“What is it,” Sean mumbles over the edge of his plaid blanket.

“Some guy says wants to fight me,” Charles replies, confused. “I don't even know who this is.”

“Where did you sleep last night? I missed you.”

“At Erik's. I told you about him, right?” Charles says, pushing the letter back into the envelope to read later and throwing it back on the bar.

“Oh, nice! I'm glad you finally got some.” Sean starts extracting his arm from the blanket for what Charles knows will be a high five.

“I didn't have sex with him,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I just slept in his bed because of the storm.”

“You should break up with your fake human girlfriend, Charles,” Sean tells him, sipping at what he thinks may be hot chocolate.

“I know,” Charles says, slumping against the arm of Sean's chair.

“You should break up with your fake human girlfriend, Charles,” Sean says again for good measure. Charles nods and closes his eyes.

“We have a show tomorrow at Cerebro. You should come,” he mumbles against the fabric.

“I'll come if you break up with Moira, that poor misguided angel.” Charles agrees to that, makes them both another cup of hot chocolate and they spend the next four hours watching the movies Charles bought from amazon. It's good, old-fashioned, mindless entertainment and for what it's worth, he enjoys it. The main character is pretty hot.

 

 _ Chapter 5 – Everything's Starting to Get Complicated _

Charles and the band practice the shit out of the next 24 hours. Logan is still silently freaking out in the most manly of ways and even Hank seems to pick up on it. Only Moira seems unaffected and makes the rest of them edgy with her perkiness. It gets old really fast.

 

 **24 HOURS LATER**

They roll into the club early to drop off their stuff in the back and cruise around for a while after that as the place begins to fill up.

Sean shows up with Raven and some blue kid named Kurt wearing glasses and hipster clothing.

“Hey, man,” Sean says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “I met your sister outside. Remy said he couldn't come because of some poker tournament or something.”

“You can hang with us,” Raven says to Sean and he flashes a smile in her direction that Charles knows is actually meant for the guy with her. Sean has a “thing” about glasses.

“Kurt, meet Sean, my brother's gay man-whore roommate,” Raven announces. They shake hands and Sean starts pouring on the charm right off the bat.

“Thanks for coming, Raven,” Charles says, beaming at her.

“I'm always on board for my brother's crappy band shows,” she laughs and punches him hard in the arm. He drapes an arm around her shoulders and walks with her for a few paces. It's too public for her to really get going on harassing him, and he's thankful for that fact as much as he is for her being here.

“Charles!” Moira calls out, running over as soon as she catches sight of him.

[  _Moira MacTaggert_ ]  
[      _17 Years Old_ ]  
[ _Status: Totally Crazy_ ]

She got a haircut the day before and is wearing that coat she bought because she thought he liked it. Objectively, he guesses, she's looking cuter than usual. He just can't get any farther than objectivity. Next to her is a nervous girl that Charles identifies as her best friend, but only because he reads it from Moira's head.

[       _Kitty Pryde_ ]  
[      _17 Years Old_ ]  
[ _Status: Totally Scared_ ]

He really should break up with her.

Moira jumps up and plants a kiss on his lips that would have been awkward enough had he not seen Erik walk in the door a split second before. Erik saw it. Charles knows he did.

[        _Erik Lensherr_ ]  
[         _Age: Unknown_ ]  
[ _Status: Charles is an Idiot_ ]

“Uh,” he flails a little, “I have to go set up!” and runs for the backstage door.

There's a band scheduled to play before them and Charles peeks out from backstage at the gorgeous, dark-skinned woman who walks onstage.

“I'm Storm,” she says, brushing artfully arranged white hair from her eyes, “and these are The Boys.”

“Hey gorgeous!” Sean shouts. He might be gay, but he's not above heckling the other bands. She looks up at him, and he feels the crawling sensation of electricity during a thunderstorm and shuts right up.

“This song is called Lightning Strike.” They start playing and true to its name, the song is over less than a second later. The crowd is left standing in awe while Charles says backstage, “Oh, fuck, they're actually good. We're so doomed.” Logan seems to agree with him and passes over another beer.

“Not a race, guys!” Sean shouts down at them.

“This one is for the asshole who keeps shouting up on the balcony. It's called We Hate You, Please Die,” she glares up at him and the song starts.

“Sweet! A song for me!” Sean says, lifting his glass at her. It hurts to listen to, but fortunately for the eardrums of everyone involved, it too is only a moment long.

“They're a menace to society,” Logan growls. But Charles can tell he's secretly fantasizing about the gorgeous pair of legs on the lead singer. Logan is kind of a dog.

 

 **SOMEWHERE ELSE**

Erik lurks by the bar because he doesn't know anyone at this thing. At some point, Charles' sister leaves her date in Sean's questionable care and slides onto an empty bar stool next to him.

“How do you know Charlie?” she says.

“Charlie?”

“Don't call him that. He'll probably strangle the life out of you,” she says casually. Erik's not entirely certain she's joking.

“We're... friends,” he tells her, taking a fresh scotch from the bartender. “Who are you?”

“I'm Raven, his sister.”

“Oh,” Erik says. “You don't look that much alike. Different eyes.” He glances at her again and is somewhat startled to find himself looking into eyes the exact shade of Charles'. She makes a small movement, and he's pretty sure her chest size just went up a letter.

“Your mutation?”

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours, darling,” Raven says. It sounds like something Charles would have said and he laughs despite himself as he plucks her silver necklace from around her neck with a casual flick of his fingers. She laughs back and a flurry of blue later, he's looking into a perfect replica of his own face.

“Impressive,” he says and buys her a drink.

 

 **SOON**

Storm and the The Boys finish their set and walk off-stage, leaving the audience with several minutes of precious silence in which to readjust themselves.

“I guess we'd better find a better seat,” Erik says. Raven invites him to sit with the rest of them, but as they walk out towards the table, she starts screeching impressively.

“Sean you absolute bastard!” she yells at Sean, who is currently locked in mouth-to-mouth combat with Kurt. There may even be tongue involved.

“Down boy, down,” he says, smacking Sean across the back of the head and points at the next table over. “Go sit over there now.” Erik watches in bemused silence as Sean looks him over with an appraising eye.

“This is Sean Cassidy, Charles' asshole, man-whore roommate. Sean, meet Erik,” they don't shake hands because Sean is busy sulking and glaring at Raven. She probably already knows she's lost, Kurt does have that air about him, but she seems to have the kind of obstinate personality streak that means she refuses to give up just yet.

Onstage, Charles pulls the strap of his bass over his head and attempts to squash his pre-show jitters.

“You ready?” Logan asks them both.

“Fuck it. Let's just do this,” Alex replies and it's about as good as Charles could have done so he just nods along and wraps fingers around the strings.

“WE ARE THE X-MEN,” Alex shouts, “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR,” and drops his sticks to the drums.

They're a couple of songs into the set and just starting to lose the attention of the crowd when someone bursts in through the ceiling. And really, Charles thinks, it's not exactly the classiest way to enter a building.

“Consider our fight begun, Charles Xavier,” the stranger says and flings a scattering of sharp ice crystals at him. Now that Charles looks, he appears to be made entirely from some kind of flexible, organic ice and were the situation different, Charles would be jumping up and down to get a look at his mutation.

“What?” Charles says, “who are you?” He pulls his instrument off and sets it to the side slowly, determined not to make any sudden moves.

“Bobby Drake,” he says and launches an icy spear at Charles' head. Charles steps aside and spreads his legs, pulling fists up into a fighting stance and unfurling his powers.

“Get off the stage,” Charles says to Logan and Alex. The two of them look more than ready for a good, solid brawl, but for the time being, this is Charles' fight.

Bobby launches another spear at him, and it's only his ability to see what Bobby's planning next that saves him.

“This guy is such toast,” Alex laughs. “Doesn't he know who Charles is?” Strictly speaking, Charles isn't unusually strong or fast. But he can read minds and that makes all the difference. Knowing what someone is going to do before they do it tends to be pretty handy, and it's near-impossible to trick him because even tricks and feints have to be thought about beforehand.

Twenty-something dodges later, Charles gets close enough to deliver a punch to his adversaries face and finds out that punching ice does actually hurt like a bitch.

“Watch out, it's that one guy,” Sean screams.

“Thanks, Sean,” Charles yells back, cradling his throbbing hand. “Very helpful.” Bobby attacks him again and Charles dances out of the way. Charles isn't really one for fighting and he's getting pretty sick of this already

“Why are you attacking me?” he says on a single breath and leans over backwards to avoid having his arm sliced off.

“Didn't you read the email?” Bobby says, stopping and looking a little concerned. “Or the letter?”

“Uh...” Charles hedges. “I was going to get around to it eventually.” Across the room his sister face palms. Bobby coughs and reverts to what appears to be his human form. He actually seems like kind of a decent guy, even if he's trying to kill Charles right now.

“I'm Bobby Drake and I'm Erik's first evil ex-boyfriend.”

Everyone left in the room, that is to say, most of the people Charles knows, swivel to stare at Erik who drags an exasperated hand over his face. There's a very long, very silent pause where everyone seems to be waiting for Erik to say something.

“Uh, yeah,” he shrugs. Somehow, that satisfies Bobby who turns back into ice and starts flinging his weight around again.

“When did you two date, exactly?” Charles asks him as they exchange blows.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Bobby says with a bitterness that speaks of a lifetime of failed relationships.

“Oh come on,” Charles grins, “tell me! Maybe some embarrassing stories?”

“I'll tell you an embarrassing story,” Erik says smoothly. “We dated in grade school for about a week.”

“It meant something!” Bobby yells back.

“No it didn't.”

Charles almost feels sorry for him at this point. He pulls the combined memory from both of their heads and glances over it. The entire thing had been the result of teenage hormones and the dual discoveries of mutant powers and an interest in men. They didn't really have anything at all in common.

“Look, uh, do you want to just go home? This is kind of stu-” but Charles doesn't get to finish his sentence because Bobby rises up slowly on a pillar of ice and starts gearing up for a massive attack. Apparently, what Erik said had hit him pretty hard.

Charles projects an accidental pulse of panic and everyone he knows scrambles over to him and lines up because, fuck it, they love Charles no matter how much of an idiot he is sometimes. He loves them all dearly right back and reaches out. This is what Charles is best at, being the general rather than the soldier. He doesn't have claws or plasma beams or super strength, but he can connect them all up, read the enemy, send directions. The feeling of all of his friends working together as a team like this is better than being high and he absolutely adores it.

“I knew there was a reason I keep you guys around,” he laughs.

Bobby isn't really that hard to defeat in the end. He's annoyingly straightforward, and ignoring the obvious joke, easy to see right through. When they make the K.O. Bobby dissolves into a cloud of ice crystals and leaves behind a single silver coin rolling around on the floor.

Charles crouches to pick it up and flips it over in his fingers. One side bears an abstract geometric shape and the other side bears a swastika. Charles can never remember which way swastikas are supposed to turn and dearly hopes it's the Buddhist symbol for eternity or the Navajo symbol for a whirling log or something. There's no reason he can think of for a Nazi coin to show up as a boss prize in New York.

Erik's shoes step into his line of sight and Charles look up at him. Erik nods, a small gesture of approval accompanied by a curious expression like he's never seen anything quite like Charles Xavier in his life.

“Let's get out of here before I get in trouble,” Charles says, looking around at the mess that used to be a club. Erik nods and they head outside.

 **LATER ON**

On the bus, Charles sits next to him and fiddles with the hem of his sweater. He keeps wanting to look at Erik, but every time he does he feels stupid about it and looks away. It just makes him seem fidgety and he's not like that usually, really he's not. It's embarrassing.

“You might as well say it,” Erik says quietly, looking out the window at the dark tunnel.

“What?” Charles replies.

“I don't need your power to tell, you know.”

“Oh.” Well that's it then. He's been officially caught out. It's now or never.

“Do you want to, I don't know, date or something?” Charles says at last.

“Yeah, okay,” Erik says with a shrug. It seems too easy, just like that. But then again, Charles thinks, he just kicked some guy's ass for Erik, so maybe he deserves this.

“Is this when I'm supposed to kiss you?”

“I think so,” Erik says and quirks his lips, tipping his head and leaning over to meet Charles half way. After a rather pleasant amount of time spent kissing and making the old ladies across the aisle extremely uncomfortable, Charles drapes his arm across the back of the seat and says “so what is this about your exes?”

“There are seven of them. You'll probably have to fight them all to keep dating me,” Erik informs him.

“Will it be one at a time?” Charles says in concern. He really hopes it will.

“I can't guarantee that. But it won't be all at once either.”

“Is... Shaw one of them?” Charles asks carefully. Erik's face takes on an angry expression. He doesn't reply and Charles thinks it may be best if he leaves the subject well enough alone for the time being. So he kisses Erik again to distract him and says, “ I think I'm okay with that.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Charles Xavier vs. The World  
 **

 _ Chapter 6 – Dating a High Schooler, Part II _

Charles is pretty sure that he dragged Erik into his dream this time. The chances of Erik dreaming about him like this are close to nil.

“Definitely your dream. You dream about playing video games?” Erik says, stretching out on the sofa next to him and propping his feet on the table. Sean and Charles don't have a sofa, so he must be somewhere else. Their surroundings shift slightly, he wonders if it's his childhood home, and suddenly it is.

“This is a good game,” Charles says, gesturing at the screen.

“You are a loser,” Erik says, but picks up a controller anyway and starts kicking Charles' virtual ass. Once they're done, which in dream-space could be anything from a second to an hour later, Erik stands up.

“You should wake up,” he says, leaning down to kiss Charles on the forehead.

“It's night time,” Charles complains. “Why would I do that?”

“It's almost 11:30 am. It's late.” Erik says and walks out a door that wasn't there before.

“That's not late!” Charles whines to the ceiling of his apartment.

 

 **THE BUS**

“It's almost nice out today,” Sean says while scanning the headlines in the morning paper.

“It's about time,” Charles sighs, stretching his legs out across several seats. The bus is less than half full and no one really needs that space.

[        _ Charles Xavier        _ ]   
[     _ Hero of This Story      _ ]  
[         _ 24 Years Old          _ ]   
[  _Fun Fact: He was also_   ]   
[ _the hero of chapters 1-5_ ]

“It's only April. We'll probably have more snow,” Sean says. “Oh hey, that Azazel guy is filming a new movie in The City.”

[            _ Sean Cassidy             _ ]   
[ _Erstwhile Roommate of Hero_ ]  
[            _ 25 Years Old             _ ]   
[        _ Fun Fact: He's gay!    _   ]

People from New York just call it that. It's repetitive to say “In New York City” when they already live in New York. It's also kind of annoying to have their biggest city share its name with the state, but they don't talk about it. The City is the best city around and no one is allowed to complain about anything except the traffic, the garbage and creepy people on street corners.

“You think he's hot, don't you?” Charles mutters. “Wasn't he in that thing with the Russian Mafia?”

“Yeah,” Sean says back, although which question it is that he's replying to is unclear.

“So, I was thinking of inviting Erik over for dinner this week so you two can meet,” Charles mentions casually.

“We already met.”

“What?” Charles says, aghast. “Where? When?”

“Your sister introduced us at your show the other night,” Sean replies. Now that he thinks about it, Charles did see Erik sitting up with the rest of them. He just hadn't really made the connection at the time.

“The real question is how my sister knows him,” Charles said pensively lacing his fingers and resting his chin on them like a proper detective. It's true that his sister likes to hit on all men in the vicinity, and Erik is pretty attractive. But Charles is certain that the answer is much more sinister than that.

“Hey Charles?” Sean says, folding his paper up in preparation for their stop. “I'm going to issue one of my ultimatums, okay?” If those words don't mean trouble, he isn't sure what does. For all that he acts like an idiot, Sean is actually a pretty reasonable guy and as such, tends to act as life coach for the rest of them.

“Uh,” Charles says, “your famous ones?” Sean's ultimatums are positively legendary.

“I live in infamy, I know. Now listen, you have to break up with Moira tonight.” He reaches up and pushes the button to signal the driver that he wants to get off at the next stop.

“But- but that's hard!” Charles whines.

“I swear to fucking god, Charles. If you don't break up with her I am going to tell Erik the second he walks through our tiny, shitty door,” Sean says, glaring at him and standing up. Charles goes to stand too, as this is their stop, but Sean stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, and I'm having someone over. Can you not come home?”

“What?” Charles splutters, “but this is our stop. How can you tell me that after I came all the way home with you?” Sean leaves and Charles leans out the window to shout obscenities at him. The mother of a little girl covers her daughter's ears and glares, but Charles is too focused on giving Sean a piece of his mind.

“I slept with your mom,” he shouts, “and she was shite in bed.”

Charles stays on the bus until it takes him back into town and grumbles about Sean and what an asshole is.

 

 **DOWNTOWN**

“Hey,” Charles says, leaning against the scratched old plexiglass of a phone booth. “Are you free today?” He wishes he could say he's talking to Erik, maybe inviting him out for another cup of coffee. Unfortunately, his conscience has compelled him to call Moira instead.

“Yes. Are you at home?” she says sweetly.

“No. I'm in a payphone on fourth,” he mutters and glares at the creepy homeless guy sitting outside.

“What are you wearing?” she asks and Charles actually has to pull the receiver away from his ear and stare at it for a moment.

“Are you trying to phone sex me?” he asks eventually.

“No!” she laughs. “But seriously. Are you wearing that ugly blue cardigan and tan pants?” He looks around, suddenly really creeped out because that is exactly what he's wearing. If Moira turns out to be some kind of crazy spy for the CIA who watches him with hidden cameras it'll be weird, but it will also make it a lot easier to break up with her.

“It's... not ugly?” he says slowly and freaks the fuck out when someone throws themselves against the outside of the plexi with a thump. Slamming the phone back on the receiver, he stumbles out of the booth and stares at Moira, laughing herself silly at his reaction.

They go to the CD store because it's nearby and Charles can't muster the energy to suggest anything better. Flicking through CDs he doesn't want to the sound of Bob Marley over the store speaker system gives him the time he needs to gather his courage.

“Oh, hey, I need this,” she says, picking up a skinny album in a cardboard sleeve. The cover says 'The Children of the Atom' and has some artful interpretation of a nuclear explosion that turns into a tree half-way up. The scowl that graces his face is instinctive in the way that Pavlov's dogs drooling to the sound of a bell is.

“They're okay,” he says without much feeling.

“I think they're playing here soon. I want to get tickets. Oh and I wanted to invite you over to dinner to meet my family,” she says happily and Charles thinks he might have just gone several shades paler.

“Uh, hey,” he says, “I have a lot of food allergies and I don't want to impose or anything.” It's a complete and utter lie. Charles stuffs his face with anything he can get his hands on most days.

“It's okay. My mom is allergic to some stuff too,” she says.

“Aren't I, I don't know, too old for you or something? Won't your parents think it's weird?” She gives him another look, more worried than the first and says, “they already know.”

“I just feel like they won't like me,” he says as a last ditch effort. Moira turns to him, holding the LP to her chest.

“I don't care. I'm in love.” It goes to his heart, but definitely not in the good way. He feels like he just got hit over the head with a slice of lemon wrapped around a large, gold brick.

“Um, Moira,” he says very seriously before he loses his nerve. “I think we should break up.” The look on her face is agonizing and the first second is stays there feels more like a year. Breaking up with people has to be the worst thing on the face of the planet.

“I'm really sorry,” he babbles. “I just don't think it's going to work. It's nothing against you or anything, you're really very nice.” Charles may or may not be backing slowly towards the door as he talks, and on the last he turns and bolts outside and down the street.

The ride to Hank's house is consumed by guilty thoughts of Moira and how shitty he feels about the entire thing. But if Charles is honest with himself, he does feel a lot better now that he's not cheating on Erik anymore. Speaking of which, he thinks, he's dating Erik, and that's all it takes for him to smile and lean back for the rest of the ride.

 

 **LATER**

“Is Moira not coming?” the band asks him together.

[ _Logan Howlett_ ]   
[  _ “The Talent”   _ ]  
[  _ 25 Years Old  _ ]

[ _Alex Summers_ ]   
[     _ Drummer    _ ]  
[  _ 22 Years Old   _ ]

[ _Hank McCoy_ ]   
[  _ Roommate  _ ]  
[ _20 Years Old_ ]

“We broke up,” Charles says, grinning.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Alex replies, throwing his hands up in the air. “How long were you dating her?”

“A few weeks,” Charles says, “I think.”

“Well it was a few weeks too fucking long,” Alex quips and Logan nods in agreement. It isn't that any of them particularly disliked her, Charles can tell. She is their biggest fan. But the whole situation has been painfully pitiful to watch. It is better this way.

“Maybe you'll meet my new date soon,” Charles announces and they all groan.

“You're a dog,” Logan says, and that's pretty rich coming from him.

“Scum of the Earth,” Hank provides. The fact he says anything at all demonstrates just how much he agrees.

 

 **SEVERAL DAYS LATER – Charles' (and Sean's) Apartment**

“Get off,” Charles says, smacking Sean with a spoon. Cooking is something Charles actually can do, regardless of what anyone says, and he made dinner tonight specifically with Erik in mind. Sean is just being a mooch.

“I have to eat before he gets here!” Sean whines. “You have extra. You're supposed to be my bitch forever.” Charles sighs, but because he's very nice and Sean does have a point, he turns a blind eye and pretends he can't see Sean stealing things.

The doorbell rings and Sean parades over to get it with Charles a step behind him.

“Good evening, sir,” Sean bows and does a pretty good impression of a waiter lacking only a fine suit and a bow tie.

“Sean, Charles' man-whore roommate, right?” Erik recites.

[            _ Erik Lensherr           _ ]   
[ _Crazy German Delivery Man_ ]   
[            _ Age Unknown          _ ]  
[      _ Everything Unknown      _ ]   
[        _ Fun Fact Unknown       _ ]  
  


  
“You remember me!” Sean replies, pretending to swoon into Charles' arms. Charles steps aside and hopes he falls on his ass. He doesn't, more's the pity, but it gives Charles a measure of satisfaction anyway.   


“Come in,” he says more politely and reaches around to untie the strings of his apron and take it off. Erik follows him through the doorway and looks between the charming way Charles' hair dips below his collar and the apartment. The former is definitely more attractive.

 

“Is this really where you two live?” he asks while hanging up his coat.

“Yeah, I know. It's tiny,” Charles says shrugging. The ' _but we're comfortable here'_ goes unspoken.

Erik takes off his shoes before Charles has to launch into his famous speech about how their apartment is actually a portal to Japan, and no one is supposed to wear shoes inside. Charles likes that Erik has impeccable manners like that. He notices things.

“You changed your turtleneck,” he says and stares.  


“People do tend to change their clothing,” Erik says. “You may find I do it pretty often.”

“But it's purple,” Charles says and receives an elbow to the side from Sean.

“Nothing wrong with purple. Matches your, uh, eyes,” Sean grins as he twirls his coat around his shoulders. Erik has blue eyes.

“Yeah, that,” Charles says, even though he can feel Erik's mind laughing at them both. He bundles Sean out the door and shuts it behind him with a grateful sigh.

“Sorry about him. But anyway, dinner's pretty much ready, so we might as well get started.” Charles leads Erik to the kitchen and shows him the spread. If he ends up projecting his pride a little bit, neither of them mention it.

“I have to admit I'm impressed, but it is annoying that you don't have a table,” Erik says between bites some time later. They're both sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the middle of the room, dishes of food spread out between them.

“It's like a picnic?” Charles tries and receives only rolled eyes in response. 

“We could have eaten at my house,” Erik says and tears a piece from his garlic bread to eat.

“I promised to cook,” Charles replies, stuffing some bread into his own mouth. He absolutely loves this stuff and doesn't actually care that bread is supposed to make people fat. If he ends up fat, at least he can say it's because of something he loves.

“You could have cooked at mine. I have this wonderful modern appliance I like to call a stove. It's conveniently located in this place I like to call a kitchen.”

“We have a kitchen” Charles says, pretending to be offended.

“No, you have an alcove that sometimes contains food,” Erik says and steals a bit of chicken from Charles' plate. It's one of those funny, unassuming little moves that Charles always notices and instantly starts analyzing. Having a psych degree on top of everything else has its drawbacks sometimes. At least it means Erik trusts him.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Erik tells him. “They say it'll make you go bald sooner.”

The dinner goes on more or less as planned until they reach dessert. It's something that Charles feels is German in origin, but really he just pulled most of these recipes out of thin air and kind of hoped they'd come together so he can't be sure. There's no paper list of ingredients or a proper name. It's just food.

Erik's laughing at something Charles said and Charles feels the pleasant buzz of a few glasses of wine, but then Erik takes a forkful the chocolate toffee cake and makes a face. Charles it hit by a swarm of emotions that flicker by too fast to read, the overall feeling of it confused and concerned, and it makes him lean forward.

“Erik?”

“Where did you get this recipe?” Erik says, very quietly, putting his plate down slowly.

“Uh, made it up, really,” Charles admits. “I don't know where it came from.”

“Have you been stealing things from my head as well as invading my dreams?” The edge of Erik's mind where Charles does most of his day to day reading feels like it wants to be angry and for the life of him Charles can't work out why.

“No,” he says. “I don't think so. Is something wrong?” Charles shoves a forkful of the cake into his own mouth and chews just to make sure he hasn't royally messed up and used flour instead of sugar or something equally terrible. It tastes just fine, great even.

“My mother used to make cake like this,” Erik says quietly. “I've never tasted anything like it. Even I can't make it right.” Charles goes instantly silent and finds that he can't actually guarantee he didn't steal it.

“May I?” Charles says, wiggling his fingers near his head. Erik nods and looks up at him as Charles slips deeper into his mind. He hasn't been this deep before, at least not while they were both awake, and it's a shockingly intimate experience. He goes looking for cake, which sounds like he's doing some kind of stupid google search on the internet, but it's the only thing he can think to do. Apart from the recipe, which Erik has tucked away in a safe corner of his mind, and some useless memories of various recent lunches and dinners, there's a dusty old memory that Charles pulls up and examines. It's not a very eventful memory, just an image of a birthday cake and woman that Erik's mind identifies as _mother._ But there's so much sensation there that Charles finds he can't stop and slowly the memory connects itself to other memories, paths building like spiderwebs that he crawls along. Charles starts flipping through them all like a scrap book feeling so, so curious and wanting more at every turn. He doesn't stop until he hears a sound that's strangely like a sob and realizes that it slipped out of his own throat.

Charles snaps back to himself so suddenly it almost knocks him backwards. Erik's face is wet with tears and then Charles realizes that his is as well. He sits, breathing hard, and stares openly at the other man thinking  _ oh my god he's crying. Worst date ever. What have I done? _ Erik stares back and Charles brushes against his mind, just the slightest touch, and cringes, expecting to find anger that isn't there. He should never have gone that far, or seen so very much. It's invasive and horrible and if Erik gets up and walks out on him now Charles will know he deserves it without question.

Except Erik doesn't.

He doesn't even move. He just sits there and lets the tears try on his cheeks. They're crying together and Charles isn't entirely sure what to make of that, but he's pretty sure it means something important about their relationship. Grown men don't generally cry in the presence of other grown men, even if they are manly, manly tears.

“I'm sorry,” Charles rasps out. “I'm so sorry.” Suddenly, he's hit with the urge to close the space between them and pull Erik into his arms. Maybe he's projecting more than he knows or maybe he forgot to close the connection entirely, but Erik looks at him then, really looks at him, and thinks, _please._

Charles scrambles over to him, spilling some rice onto the rug on the process, and pulls Erik into his arms, projecting calm and peace and  _ it'sokay Imsosorry _ .

“ _I didn't know I had that memory,”_ Erik thinks.

“I'm sorry,” Charles whispers against his hair. There's a brief moment in which Charles identifies gratitude in the mess of Erik's emotions and that surprises him as much as anything else that's just happened. It's gone again, just like that, and Charles resorts to tugging Erik the extra few feet to the futon and curling up around him until he calms down.

Eventually the pair of them are simply laying together. Charles feels half-asleep, exhausted from the effort of keeping track of Erik's mind through all of that mess. He can feel Erik breathing slowly against his skin as if he is asleep, but knows also that he is not.

“If I suck you off, will it even begin to amount to the apology I owe you?” he says sleepily. Erik huffs a weak little laugh against his neck in reply. They've both been thinking about it all night, wondering how far this thing between them is going to go. But at this point both Charles and Erik are utterly wrung out and they both know it would be ridiculous to try. Erik falls asleep first and Charles dozes off to the too-familiar fuzzy feeling of Erik's dreams blending into his own.

Sean comes home in the morning and finds them curled up together. He coos and thinks it's possibly the most adorable thing on the planet, even better than kittens. Erik gets up and leaves quickly, despite Charles offering to make breakfast or go out for breakfast, or anything else really. It doesn't even need to involve breakfast if that's what he wants. 

Erik turns him down and Charles overhears ' _ need some time'  _ which is something he's pretty sure he can respect right now, given the circumstances. So he lets Erik go and resigns himself to endure the dirty dishes and Sean's torture on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains (pretty mild/brief) sexual content at one point. I imagine very few people will care, but you have been warned.

_ Chapter 7 – The Late Charles Xavier _

Charles and Sean step into the video store in the midst of a heated discussion on guitar brands. Charles knows absolutely nothing about guitars, except that he plays a bass which is sort of like a guitar in most ways. He sort of likes the idea of the beautiful, hand-made wood ones he's seen in magazines. Sean used to sing for a death metal band back in college and has a taste for the kind of guitar that looks like it has enough sharp ends on it to brutally murder another person, human or mutant.

“It's question of elegance,” Charles says.

“If you're going to play pretty instruments, go form a hipster-indie band and whine about thrifting,” Sean says band. “Metal's where it's at.”

“All they do is scream,” Charles argues. He hates the screaming.

“That's not the point, man. You have to think of the screaming like it's just a sound that gets mixed in with all the others. The thing that's really beautiful is how good a lot of the guitarists are. It's fucking mind-blowing.”

They look around and realize that the place is empty. No customers, which isn't unusual, and no one behind the counter. It's the middle of the day and it's not a Sunday so they know it should be open.

“Alex, you lazy ass get the fuck out here!” Sean screams, making Charles flinch. It's pretty understandable that the guy was in a metal band considering how good he is as screaming. It's legitimately his mutation.

“Fuck off,” Alex screams back, but comes out holding a beer anyway. It's kind of early in the day and Charles is certain that no one should be drinking on the job. But this is Alex and he works in a video rental place, so the worst thing he could probably do is file a 'N' movie under 'Y' or put porn on the display TV.

“Can I rent all of these?” Charles says, handing him a list of movies.

“Did Sean put you up to this? You know he has a thing for this director,” Alex replies, eying Sean up and down.

“Yeah, I know,” Charles shrugs. “But Erik was involved with him at some point, so, you know.” Alex nods knowingly and looks over the list again.

“Do you want me just to give you the ones that are actually worth it?”

“Yes, yes please,” Charles begs. The list is twelve movies long and even if they average less than two hours each, it would still be amount to almost an entire 24-hour day wasted that he could be doing something else like playing chess with Erik.

They play chess, which Charles supposes is kind of a funny hobby for people these days. But it was one of those accidental shared interests that the pair of them had discovered and decided to cultivate. Charles has never been more grateful for the oversized chess set in the park before, even if it is a pain in the ass to convince the attendant to loan him the pieces after that drunken afternoon several years before. The attendant doesn't see a lot of action, so she remembers every little thing. Charles has considered wiping her memory more than once.

Alex wanders off between the shelves, and Charles can hear him thinking about the movies and trying to remember which ones were the best. At some point, Azazel found his movie niche, namely horror and violence, and hasn't really left it since. Consequently, most of the movies feature similar plots. He's kind of a sell-out.

Sean is watching the TV with rapt attention and it turns out he's staring at some old, crappy Japanese horror movie. Charles will admit that the Japanese have turned out some of the most deeply disturbing horror movie's he's seen, but this particular one looks more like a filmed version of an elementary school play than anything else. A short, fat, balding man jumps onscreen sporting a pair of little demon horns and Sean gestures at him.

“Don't expect it to be like that,” he says, referring to Charles' upcoming fight with Erik's second evil ex.

“Of course not,” Charles replies, rolling his eyes. He's seen pictures of this Azazel guy and he is nothing at all like the man in the movie.

“So why is Sean making you watch all of these?” Alex says as he comes back with three movies and sets them on the counter.

“He says it's training,” Charles shrugs. “But I can't read people from images.”

“It's the principle of the thing,” Sean says from his place in front of the bad Japanese horror flick.

“He doesn't really know what principle that is though,” Charles tells Alex quietly.

“Just so you know, you might not ever need to return this,” Alex says, leaning over the counter at him. “You should also check out anything else you kind of want to own.”

“What does that mean?” Charles asks.

“It means I'm pretty sure this place is going to go under soon. I've already started trying to line up a new job,” Alex says with a shrug. Frankly, this place has always been a piece of crap and Charles won't really be sorry to see it go. 

Charles can't think of any other movies he wants to see or own, but he goes browsing anyway. The cover of Atonement looks girly but the back says it's a war movie, so he adds that to the stack. Something called Inglourious Basterds is three places down the shelf and that looks amusing too so Charles takes it and when he finds a whole bunch of old Carl Sagan episodes, he immediately grabs those too. Sean adds a documentary about lab rats, which seems kind of weird, and The Last King of Scotland which Charles has never even heard of. Alex checks them out and Charles pays for the whole pile, but makes Sean carry it home.

 

 ** LATER **

“Did you watch the movies?” Sean asks, going over what Charles suspects is some kind of terrifying training schedule.

“If you turn your head slightly to the right you'll find one playing right now,” he replies, eying the screen with only mild interest. The movie requires so few brain cells to follow that Charles suspects it may actually require negative brain cells or something. Maybe it's stealing braincells from him. 

He's also flipping through a new book on mutant genetics by an author who apparently knows less than he does. It's a little sad.

“You have to learn his moves,” Sean says seriously. “We're going into The City in a few days.”

“Do you even know what his mutation is?” Charles sighs.

“Uh,” Sean hedges, “being red?” Charles throws the book at him. Both it and Sean are useless, so maybe they deserve to meet each other.

“I'll just find out when the time comes,” Charles groans and flops sideways onto a pillow. If he tries hard enough, he might be able to find Azazel at that distance, but there's also the fact that he's never met the man before and the city contains upwards of twelve million other people. Even thinking about sorting through that much noise makes his head hurt.

“Do 500 push-ups,” Sean demands. Charles makes a weak, abortive gesture at him and doesn't move until Sean gets to his feet and starts nudging Charles in the side with sock-covered toes. He gets up in the end and bickers with Sean for the first twenty or so about the right way to do a pushups.

“I hate you,” he mutters as Sean plays Zelda. “You're a terrible coach.”

At practice that night and they play a bunch of covers and generally fuck around more than anything else. No one is in the mood for actual, down to earth practice and Charles' abdomen still hurts from doing that many push-ups.

So they end up sprawled out over Hank's bed again and after a few minutes discussing how they should probably record some stuff and try to get it 'out there,' they lapse into a comfortable silence. Charles likes the gentle feeling of his friend's minds around him even if Logan is thinking about cage wrestling.

“Have you seen the cover of this month's Blackbird?” Hank asks, holding out the glossy magazine. The cover spread is a large, glossy photo of the members of The Children of the Atom and Charles glares at it.

“Yes,” he grumbles, pretending to hiss. “Get it away from me. I can feel my skin burning already.”

“At least one of us is getting recognized,” Logan shrugs and Charles accidentally projects enough of his annoyance to make Logan rub his head with the beginnings of a headache.

“Do I detect some latent hostility?” Alex smirks. Charles hits him over the head with a pillow. If he was asked, Charles would deny completely that it's personal in any way, shape or form. He just doesn't like the band. Really. If by 'band' he means the lead singer and if by 'doesn't like' he means has a seething, bone-deep love/hate for.

 

 ** A FEW DAYS LATER **

Erik finally has a day off after what seems like forever. He says it's only been a few days since the last time, but Charles definitely doesn't believe him. Erik is clearly just trying to mess with him or else has an entirely different perception of time, which would actually be an interesting, if difficult to handle, mutation.

“We should go to a strip club and get a two-for-one special,” Charles says, trying to crack a joke. Erik gives him a funny look and thinks _'why would either of us be interested in that_ ' which Charles thinks is kind of offensive considering the number of woman he's dated. Everyone and their mother seems to think he's gay and it's starting to get concerning.

They agree on going to a bar instead, which is probably a more solid choice. But then Charles' stomach growls and he admits that he hasn't eaten since breakfast. He ate breakfast around noon, but the fact remains, so Erik rolls his eyes and they decide to go to this Thai noodle bar and grill thing as a compromise. The bowls there tend to be larger than Charles' head and he's pretty excited about both that and trying to get Erik drunk. Drunk Erik seems like it could be a very amusing prospect.

Unfortunately, Erik is German and has some kind of freaky old-school German mutation that allows him to hold his liquor. Even the myriad of skills learned at university parties are no help, and soon Charles is giggling far too much and leaning against their shared table.

 

 ** MEANWHILE – Sean's apartment (that Charles lives in) **

Sean is enjoying having two medium pizzas, a litter of coke and a box of cinnamon bread sticks with extra icing to himself. He's brutally murdering peasants in Fable and having lots of sex with the women and men who keep following him around. It's a good night all around.

When the phone rings, he thinks about ignoring it before considering that it might be Erik calling in to say Charles fell into a gutter, or accidentally got himself stuck in some groovy chick's head again. So he picks up and says, “Sean Cassidy.”

“Is Charles there?” a girls voice asks.

“No. He's out. Who is this?” Sean says, mashing some buttons to beat someone else up.

“It's Moira. I was hoping we could go out for coffee or something,” she says hopefully.

“You do know it's almost 10 P.M. right?” Sean replies. “And sorry, he probably won't be back for a while.”

“I'm close to your place. Can I come over and wait for him?” she asks quietly.

“Uh, I'm just sitting around eating pizza. It won't be very interesting...” he says doubtfully. “Where are you?” But the thing is, Sean already has a pretty good idea so he pauses the game and drags himself out of the armchair.

“Just... close by,” she says right as he yanks open the front door and finds her standing on the mat. There's an awkward silence before Sean says, “you really need to go home.”

She snaps her phone shut, gives him an expression akin to a deer in the headlights, and runs the other direction.

 

 ** BACK TO BUSINESS **

“And I have a degree in biophysics,” Charles is mumbling against the wood of the table. “But here I am fucking around and doing nothing with my life.” Erik moves to his side of the booth, mostly to keep Charles from hurting himself, but drunken Charles likes to think it's because he wants to cuddle and promptly presses himself against Erik's shoulder.

“I'm going to write you a song. It's going to be amazing,” Charles announces.

“Oh really?” Erik says and Charles completely misses the fact that Erik is only playing along.

“I don't know how. But I bet I can figure it out if I look through Logan's head a bit,” Charles mumbles.

“That's cheating,” Erik says patiently. Charles looks shocked at the idea and sits up straight.

“Shit. How am I suppose to write you a song?”

“You don't need to do that,” Erik tells him. “I don't need a song.”

“But I want to do something for you,” Charles whines and leans in to kiss him. He misses the first time and the second is a bit messy, but once Erik straightens him out it's warm and lovely and goes on for just the right amount of time.

“ _You promised to suck me off as an apology,”_ Erik thinks and Charles is reasonably sure it was meant for him, but he can't actually be certain. Erik, for his part, doesn't actually expect Charles to get around to it and means it more as a joke than anything. He expects to take him home and put him to bed and see if Charles sleeping is actually as adorable as he imagines it is.

But after that Charles becomes determined to sober up and demands that they walk home instead of taking transportation.

“I'll fall asleep,” he reasons even though Erik has already said he'll carry him from the bus stop if necessary.

They end up at Erik's in the end, probably because Charles mutters something about his gay roommate having voyeuristic tendencies. By the time they get there Charles seems to be doing better, but remains just drunk enough to drop gracelessly to his knees the second they get inside the front door. Erik ends up tripping over him, knocking them both to the rug where a disgruntled Charles starts giggling again and loses any composure he managed to put together on the way there.

Erik disentangles their legs and struggles upright, dragging Charles with him and supporting him all the way to the bedroom. He helps Charles take off his shoes and jacket and tries to push him into bed, but Charles clings to him and drags him down into a pile of warm, happy limbs. There's a moment where he considers staying that way, and another where he considers kissing Charles senseless. 

Erik disentangles himself for the second time and stands over Charles, caught between how beautifully happy Charles looks and how fuckable his mouth has gone, all red and wet and perfect. Thus starts an infuriating war between Erik's moral code and his dick which ends when he goes and shuts himself in the bathroom to take a long, cold shower.

“I promised,” Charles mutters sleepily when Erik climbs into bed next to him wearing only a clean pair of underwear and gray track bottoms.

“Tomorrow,” Erik whispers, fully expecting Charles not to remember. He allows Charles to curl up against his chest and cards fingers gently through his hair as he falls asleep.

Charles is, if possible, more adorable when he sleeps than Erik suspected he would be and damn it he's not supposed to be the kind of guy who thinks things are cute.

 

 _ Chapter 8 – As Long as the Road Lacks Perspective _

Erik wakes to find Charles trying to get his underwear off. It's amusing because Charles is obviously trying to be stealthy and do it without waking Erik, probably so he can wake him in a much more interesting kind of way. But he's struggling and Erik strongly suspects he's never done this before and the idea was much better in theory than it is in practice. Erik has never been a particularly deep sleeper.

“Charles,” he says softly just to watch his head snap up guilty.

“I, uh,” Charles says, “I was...”

“Trying to disrobe me, I know,” Erik finishes, taking pity on him and lifting his hips off the bed to push his underwear down. Charles kneels between his legs, looking nervous but decidedly determined and just stares.

“I don't think that's how it works,” Erik says, nudging him with his knee. Charles blinks as though coming out of a daze and smiles at him before lowering himself down to take Erik in his mouth.

“You're endearingly bad at this,” Erik chuckles a few moments later, pushing fingers through Charles' hair and away from cheeks flushed a pretty pink with effort. Charles flicks eyes up to him, he presses fingers to his temple and suddenly he's extraordinarily _good_ at it and Erik is stuck gasping for air and reaching for something to hold on to. The part of him that can still manage coherent thought suspects Charles just dipped into his mind and pulled out everything he knows on the subject along with exactly how he likes it best. It might be cheating, but it's the best possible kind of cheating and Erik has absolutely no complaints.

Later, when Erik has returned the favor and Charles is sporting a fresh mark on his shoulder shaped like Erik's mouth that promises to go very dark, Erik rolls over and announces that Charles needs a shower. His hair still smells vaguely of 'bar' and it's putting Erik off.

Charles grumbles and gets out of bed, trailing into the bathroom. Erik watches him go, eyes lingering, and laughs when he hears Charles run into something and curse. Several minutes later, Charles sticks his head out the door and complains that he can't get the hot water to work. So Erik gets up to join him, purely, he thinks, so that Charles won't freeze to death or hit himself some more.

 

 ** LATER THAT DAY (Charles is wearing a pair of Erik's underwear.) **

“You probably won't like them,” Charles says. He's been worrying at this subject for a while now and Erik is getting tired of it.

“Charles, I'm sure your friends are... fine,” he says, patting Charles' arm placatingly. Charles sighs and goes quiet, trudging along with Erik and wondering how weird it would be to hold his hand. It's something he did with a lot with old girlfriends, but that's different somehow. Erik seems a little too 'cool' for hand-holding and Charles isn't sure he ever liked it much himself. It was just something he did because he's heard girls like it.

They arrive at Hank's house because that's where they always hang out. Charles strolls right in the front door without knocking, Erik in tow. A motley crew of characters is sitting around the kitchen table listening with rapt attention to what appears to be a very long guitar solo on a old stereo. Charles sits down with them and listens just a closely, leaving Erik to stand behind him. Erik stays quiet until the ritual is over and they all start discussing what a genius the player is.

Charles forgets to introduce him, possibly because all of these people already know who Erik is from Charles' innocent chatter. But the rough looking one with the hair is eying him up and down so Erik looks meets his gaze and introduces himself properly.

“Erik Lensherr,” he says, holding out a hand.

“Go fuck yourself,” Logan growls back and takes a long drink from what appears to be whiskey in the wrong kind of glass.

“Interesting name,” he hums and it sends everyone else as the table into fits of laughter that Erik thinks may mean he passed some kind of test. The least hairy of Charles' friends, who Erik learns is named Alex, starts bossing around the blue one, Hank, and demanding that he go find another chair. Hank grumbles something about not having any more kitchen chairs, but at that Charles perks up and says he should start on dinner anyway and offers Erik his chair.

“I'll help you,” Erik says and follows him instead to the small island in the middle of the room where a pile of vegetables are sitting in disarray.

“You're Jewish right?” Charles asks, “so no meat and dairy, but everything else is okay?” Erik shrugs. He's not allergic to anything and doesn't really have any strong dislike for anything he sees on the counter top. Charles picks it up from the edge of his mind and smiles, setting about washing carrots under the tap.

They get into a rhythm of Charles washing and Erik chopping. It's relaxing, Erik finds, to watch Charles go about his business with that amused little smile that he probably doesn't even realize he's wearing. He crosses his arms and keeps the knife going by will alone.

“What are we making?” he says at last.

“Oh, didn't I say? Chicken pot pie,” Charles replies and then feels the way Erik's mind is laughing at him and goes back over what he said.

“Oh,” he says, “Oh, I'm sorry. Chicken counts as meat!” Charles is mortified about the obvious mistake and starts laughing despite himself. He asks Logan how much he actually cares about the chicken, just to be nice, but ignores him when he says the chicken is the only important part of the entire meal.

“I'll cook it on the side,” Charles tell Erik in a whisper, leaving Logan and Alex to play battleship. “We all mush everything around to get the crust properly distributed, so it won't be a big deal to add it later.”

“It's not really that big a deal at all,” Erik mutters. But Charles gives him a look that says yes it is important and frowns before kneading the dough. It's cute how Charles is so concerned about him and oh god Erik did not just think that something was 'cute.'

Somewhere in the middle of waiting for the now-vegetarian pot pie to come out of the oven, Alex demands shots and Logan heartily agrees. Charles only starts laughing and Hank never cares what the rest of them get up to, so that counts as a majority vote as far as anyone is concerned. Alex goes off to raid the cabinets and breaks out tequila and neon green shot glasses that are, apparently, left over from some party. He also comes back sporting a sombrero and a pink plastic flamingo under his arm which is absolutely useless but makes for a grand entrance.

“It's an initiation ceremony!” Alex announces, two shots later.

“You idiot. This isn't a frat house,” Logan tells him. “It's a test.”

“Erik will drink you all under the table!” Charles announces, slamming his plastic shot glass back down. That glint in Logan's eye definitely means this just became a contest, so Erik gives them a toothy grin and holds out his empty glass for a refill. It's true, after all.

Thankfully, the pot pie comes out of the oven looking golden and delicious before any of them can get really, truly drunk. So they take a break from drinking to eat, and plow their way through the entire thing in a matter of minutes.

Alex complains about still being hungry, the response to which is a sound smack over the head from Logan. But as it turns out, Hank actually bought Charles a cake that says “congratulations on your new girlfriend!” on it in pink. He mutters an apology on behalf of the deaf baker at the grocery store and Charles just drags a finger through the word 'girl' and licks it off in a way that is definitely innocent and has Erik staring in any case.

“Fixed!” he laughs. 

They make an executive decision to give up on plates and just put the cake in the middle and go at it with forks. It turns out surprisingly well, even if Hank will need to sweep later, and it even manages to satisfy Alex who is always hungry and blames it on having to generate plasma power. Charles launches into a lecture about how Alex's energy doesn't come from his own body and they only barely prevent Alex from showing off his power to prove a point.

Half way through someone has the brilliant idea to find Kahlua and ice cream and make cake-shots. They look disgusting but taste great, so the idea is deemed a success by all parties involved.

“I think they like you,” Charles says on the sidewalk outside the house. They had left Hank and Alex curled up asleep on the kitchen floor, and Logan watching late night TV on the couch so now it's just the two of them. Erik nods and Charles goes in for a kiss that turns out surprisingly well, all things considered.

“Goodnight,” he says waving as Erik goes in the other direction to get to the nearest bus stop.

“Don't die tomorrow,” Erik calls back.

“I'm touched that you care,” Charles laughs. “You should come and watch hot men fight over you.”

“I just might do that,” Erik yells, raising his voice as he gets farther away.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Chapter 9 – Nothing's Ever Over _

Sean drags Charles out the door early the next morning. He falls asleep on Sean's shoulder the moment they're settled on the bus into The City and doesn't wake up until they're almost there.

“Where is everyone else?” he mutters, groping around blindly with his brain.

“We're going early so we can scope things out,” Sean informs him, flipping through a folder that seems to contain notes on Erik's second evil ex.

“I hate you,” Charles informs him and sits up just because he likes watching the Manhattan skyline get closer. It's shaping up to be a nice day, early though it is, and somehow Sean knows that Azazel and his crew are filming some shots in Central Park that day. 

The plan is, apparently, to show up, watch the shoot, and confront Azazel after it's over. For some reason, Sean believes this is extremely important and a little digging on Charles' part turns up several facts. First, Sean wants to see if he can sneak into the background so when the movie comes out, he can point at himself and laugh. Second, he wants to watch a tall, hot, Russian man run around and do this magical thing called 'acting.' And third, he thinks that interrupting the filming itself will delay the release and Sean really, really wants to see it.

“Don't worry,” he says, patting Charles on the arm. “Logan said he'd drive everyone else out.” Logan's car is a beat up old two-seater truck and that means that some combination of Alex, Erik, Hank and possibly Raven if she finds out about it will be stuck in the back inhaling exhaust fumes and trying to play ill-advised games of scrabble. Charles is glad that Erik can hold his own against his friends.

It turns out that the early morning shoot was actually a dawn shoot and they missed the entire thing anyway. Sean is disappointed. Charles is decidedly less so. But Azazel, it seems, has been waiting around for him, though how he knows about all of this is mystery. It's very possible that Sean sent Azazel some kind of challenge on Charles' behalf.

Sean abandons Charles at the edge of the park. He pulls out a camera, and sneaks into some trees while humming the Mission Impossible theme song. Charles strolls out, feeling more confident than he thinks he should and is surprised when Azazel motions him to sit down on the other side of the park table.

“Sit,” he says, accent much stronger than Charles remembers from the movies. He offers Charles a glass of what looks like water but turns out to be vodka when Charles tries to take a casual sip. It's not even noon and it is way, way too early to be drinking vodka. But how is one supposed to turn down a very imposing, bright red Russian that looks like the devil himself?

“Charles Xavier,” he says after he's finished choking on that first sip of his drink. Azazel takes his hand and shakes it.

“You are dating Erik?” he asks. Charles nods nervously. Then, of all things to do, Azazel actually holds his glass up and Charles knocks his against it.

“I wish you the best of luck and happiness,” Azazel tells him and knocks back the entire thing. Charles simply sits there, stunned and says without thinking, “that's it?”

“What did you expect?” Azazel asks him, shrugging. “I do not want Erik, but I was informed I should meet you here today.”

“I thought I was supposed to fight and defeat all seven of you guys or something. It sounded really important,” Charles tells him, curious. He'd quite like to ask who gave Azazel this information, but tends to think it's a bit rude to read strangers without permission.

Azazel looks him over speculatively and reaches into his pocket to pull something out. Charles flinches instinctively, but looks up when he finds a silver coin being pressed into his hand.

“You win. I cede this battle to you,” Azazel says formally. “You will need this later.” 

Then he disappears in a puff of smoke and Charles gets really excited about what an interesting mutation that is and how unusual it is to have so many mutations at once what with the skin and the tail and the teleportation. He also looks a lot like the Christian idea of a demon or a devil and Charles is tempted to do research into the subject. Perhaps Azazel is part of some ancient line of devil-mutants.

Erik shows up soon after Azazel's disappearance with everyone else trailing behind, looking for all the world like a very tolerant father with his four rambunctious children and one oversized dog. Raven did come along after all, they picked up Sean somewhere along the way, and it's extremely difficult to imagine Logan ever having had parents. Maybe he was born in a zoo.

“Where's all the action!” Alex demands. “I was told that I would be seeing a damned good fight today.”

“He, uh, left,” Charles replies. “I win.” There's a general chorus of disappointment as they all sit down in a big circle on the grass and start passing around the high quality Russian vodka that Azazel left behind. 

Erik sits next to Charles as he starts spinning a wonderful yarn about what a difficult battle it has been and how terrifying Azazel was in person. Sean, it turns out, fell out of his tree and spent most of his time trying to get out of the bush that had cushioned his fall. His inability to confirm or deny any of Charles' statements only makes him bolder with his story. At some point he ends up laying, head on Erik's stomach, as he gestures wildly with his arms and makes up stories about fire and brimstone coming through portals into their mortal world. He can feel Erik laughing silently under him and the sheer comfortable companionship of it hits him over the head a bit harder than he would have thought.

“ _Shut up,”_ Charles thinks at him.

“ _Make me,”_ Erik thinks back. So Charles jabs him hard in the side and starts a wrestling match which ends, as any fights in his vicinity usually do, with Logan pinning them to the ground and demanding they kiss. It's not actually difficult for Charles and Erik, thank god, but Logan always deals the same punishment to everyone in situations like this and Charles tries very hard to suppress the memory of the time that Alex and Hank had fallen out over something rude Alex had said. 

Then Erik lifts Logan up like a toy with his powers and tosses him aside to the cheers of everyone present. Erik stands over him, foot on Logan's chest as he holds him immobile against the grass.

“I claim this land in the name of Lensherr,” he announces and Charles claps the loudest.

Raven organizes this oddly complicated game of tag mixed with hide and seek and forces everyone to play. Charles and Erik hide separately, but communicate by way of telepathy and find each other at the same time exactly a minute after the game starts. This means they both lose and get to lay around on the grass some more and watch the ensuing chaos.

“So what actually went on between you two,” Charles asks him quietly as they watch the others run around.

“Why don't you just look. You've already been inside my head,” Erik replies, making Charles tense up. His tone is relaxed and yet this is a topic they haven't really touched on yet.

“I usually try to get permission,” he mumbles softly.

“I don't see why you shouldn't use your gift,” Erik says.

“But I wouldn't go through a stranger's house or read all of his or her emails. Going through someone's mind is like that but a million times worse,” Charles argues. He has this perfect little set of boundaries that he set himself a long time ago, and doesn't really like to see them broken.

“Am I a stranger?” Erik says, leveling an unreadable look at Charles.

“No, but I wouldn't just go through your stuff either,” Charles splutters.

“I don't really care if you go through my stuff,” Erik shrugs. He's not lying either. Charles would know.

“Is that you giving me permission?” Erik nods once and Charles puts fingers to his head and closes his eyes to look at that section of Erik's memory and nothing else. He refuses to make the same mistake again.

“You know, Charles. I think that you need to figure it out,” Erik tells him cryptically after Charles has finished looking at what is, frankly, a fairly bland memory.

“Sorry? Figure what out?” Charles asks, genuinely confused. He starts to probe into Erik's mind and then Erik looks right at him and says, “that.” It doesn't make any more sense than his earlier statement, but it does stop Charles looking any deeper. When Charles doesn't look any more enlightened than he did a minute ago, so Erik sighs and spells it out for him.

“You're inconsistent. Sometimes you're all uptight and moral about how you don't read people without permission and all that, and sometimes you just dive right in when you feel like it. You need to figure it out,” he shrugs. Charles sits up and looks at Erik pensively.

“But it's good to have manners, right? Foundation of society and all that.”

“They say it divides us from apes, sure. But we're not even human, Charles. The axiom doesn't apply. Either you can be all polite and moral and feel good about fitting into the society of a species that isn't even your own, or you can use your powers however you want and be satisfied that you're fulfilling your potential. You use your legs to walk, don't you?” Erik replies, looking up at the clouds meandering slowly by.

He doesn't completely understand what Erik is getting at, but Erik refuses to say anything more on the matter and looking into his mind is probably inappropriate after that discussion. Eventually, Charles is forced to give up and go back to enjoying the rest of his day.

 

 **TUESDAY – Mendel's Coffee**

Erik goes into the coffee shop expecting to deliver a package and maybe get something to go. He's busy looking in on an array of snacks and pastries when someone says his name.

“Hi, Erik” Raven says, smiling. She looks perfect, as always, but has perhaps one too many buttons on her shirt undone.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says slowly, straightening up.

“The nice kind?” she replies, leaning on the other side of the case and batting her eyelashes. He quirks his eyebrows at her and she laughs, straightening up.

“Was I good? I've been practicing,” she tells him.

“I don't think Charles would approve of you doing that with me,” Erik says. “But maybe in a few years.” He watches as she shifts before his eyes, becoming a little taller and adding a few years to her looks.

“Now?”

“What do you really look like,” Erik asks. All these different faces, but he wonders which one is real. It's the kind of mutation that makes it so easy to fall into habit, to become a stereotype of beauty. 

“Maybe another time,” she says at last after a long beat of surprised silence. Apparently people don't ask her that very often.

“I think I'd prefer the real Raven,” Erik tells her. “I'll have a latte and can you sign for this package?”

She gives him a strange look and picks up a cup, scribbling his name and order and handing it off to another woman Erik doesn't know. She signs for the package, and he pays for his drink.

“Where are you going next?” she asks as he waits for his coffee.

“The reference library,” he says shrugging.

“Oh that place is huge. There's this old rumor about how it used to be a cover-up for a CIA base because of all those big satellite dishes out back. The library doesn't own that land, of course, but people like to talk.”

“I haven't been,” he admits.

“If you want to wait ten minutes I can take you over,” Raven says. Erik knows where it is, but this is Charles' sister and he'll admit he's a bit curious. Charles never speaks about his past, which might not be strange except that Charles likes to discuss just about everything else.

“Okay,” Erik says and sits down at a table with his drink to wait. There's a paper on the table and he flips through it curiously. One of the pages is a full spread advertising the upcoming concert of a band named The Children of the Atom. He ignores it entirely, and reads the news on the opposite page about a bunch of unexploded Cold War era bombs a research team found off the coast of Cuba.

Raven joins him ten minutes later sporting a leather coat over her dress and they walk out together.

“You know I have to give you the obligatory, protective sibling talk, right?” she laughs. “If only I had a shotgun to wave around.”

“Your brother is safe with me, though I can't speak for his virtue,” Erik says, smirking a little.

“Oh, well Charles needed to get some any,” she says shrugging. “It's been a while.”

“How long?” Erik can't help asking. She looks at him as if trying to judge whether or not he's worthy.

“About a year. You probably shouldn't ask him about it.” It's not as much information as Erik would have liked, but it's something.

“Alright. So you two grew up together?”

“Sort of. Charles caught me sneaking into the house to steal food when he was eight or so. He was so naïve he offered me his home on the spot,” she smiles fondly. “He was a pretty adorable kid.”

“Your parents were okay with it?” Erik asks innocently. It makes Raven stiffen up almost imperceptibly and isn't that interesting. Maybe he is getting somewhere.

“Charles is not a saint,” she says by way of explanation.

“What does that mean?”

“It means he's used his powers in ways he shouldn't have,” she says shortly.

“They're his powers. He can use them however he likes,” Erik says easily. Raven looks almost angry with him, but he gets the feeling it's less because she thinks he's wrong and more because what she just said is something Charles believes and she doesn't want someone waltzing in to destroy that naivety. It's the kind of protectiveness that Erik sometimes feels for Charles too, but Erik has always been a destroyer and never a protector, so he'll admit he's a little new to the whole thing.

“Charles has always been a little too kind for his own good. He'd rather other people got their way,” she says and shifts the topic to something lighter.

The library, as it turns out, is actually pretty impressive. It's nothing at all like the dinky little local thing Erik has delivered packages to before.

“Do you know where to drop that off?” Raven says, gesturing at the package under his arm.

“No,” he says, looking up at the glass ceiling of an atrium that's several stories tall.

“Let's try the information desk,” she says cheerfully and strolls off. It turns out to be the right place to go, and the exchange is over in mere minutes. Erik really should get going on his next delivery, but Raven invites him to stay for a few minutes and look around, so he does.

“Let's go in one of these ridiculous elevators. They're ridiculous,” Raven says, looking up at them. The elevators in question are glass on three sides and provide an excellent of the entire place as they go up and down

But before they can get there, an unknown girl runs out from behind a potted plant and attacks him. It's a little pathetic, really, because she's about half his weight. But he has to admit that she learned how to throw a punch somewhere as he steps to the left to avoid it.

Erik tries to walk away at first, assuming that maybe that's it. But she keeps coming. If nothing else, Erik can say it's a new experience to get attacked by such a tiny girl and a human at that.

He lifts his hand at a fountain containing some kind of ugly, abstract metal sculpture and pulls off a piece.

“Erik, you can't just destroy that,” Raven hisses, looking around. Her face looks a lot more generic than it did a minute ago, as though she's trying to make sure no one remembers her.

“Who are you?” he asks the girl calmly.

“Moira,” she says, panting. “You stole my boyfriend.”

“Ah,” Erik replies in an amused tone and wraps a clean, thin strip of metal around her wrist the next time she tries to punch him. She looks at it in concern, but carries on with the other fist which really makes his job easy as he repeats the gesture. A flick of his fingers later and Moira's wrists are linked together behind her back and Erik has forced her to her knees with a sharp movement. It's far too easy.

“Erik,” Raven says in warning. 

“Pathetic,” he says, looking between Raven and Moira before striding away at a brisk clip. He doesn't take kindly to being attacked, considers it an act of war, but Moira is a weak human girl in a library and doesn't really deserve the full range of his punishment. That aside, Charles would be disappointed in him and Erik is rather surprised to find that he actually cares.

Raven runs after him and says her goodbyes at the door.

 

 **SOMEWHERE FAR, FAR AWAY (But not really) – Charles' Apartment**

Charles is slacking off and playing video games while Sean of out of the house. Sean accidentally saved over his Final Fantasy game last month, so Charles is getting his revenge by turning Sean's villainous character in Fable into a hero. It's exhausting to fend off all of the people trying to thank him for his good deeds, but the look on Sean's face will be absolutely worth it.

The phone rings and Charles pauses to pick it up.

“Hello?” he says cheerfully.

“Hi, Charles, it's me” the person on the other end says.

Charles' heart feels like it stops in a moment. He tenses up automatically, and finds he isn't entirely sure what to do with his hands anymore.

“It's you,” he parrots back.

“Hi,” she says.

“Jean Grey,” he says. He isn't even sure why he's checking. There's no doubt whatsoever.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” he says. _Oh god,_ he thinks _, why is she calling? Why now? Why here?_

“It's been a while. A year or something?” Jean asks.

“Approximately,” Charles says slowly.

“How are you?”

“Right now?” he says.

“Sure.”

“Not so good. Pretty bad, actually.”

“That sucks,” she says. She sounds exactly the same. He isn't sure why she would sound different, but it still strikes him.

“It's your fault, of course,” he manages and hears her amused hum.

“I know. So how's life? Any new girlfriends I should be jealous of?” It sounds like she's talking about the weather and it concerns him deeply.

“Fine. I have a totally hot and sexy boyfriend,” he tells her.

“I'm jealous,” Jean tells him.

“No, you're not.”

“I am.”  “You left me for that model.”

“You've never even met her,” Jean chides.

“Listen, why are you calling?” Charles asks finally. It's been less than a minute and already he's exhausted.

“We're playing a show soon and we're getting a bunch of local bands to open,” she says.

“Yeah, and?”

“And the one for Sunday dropped out. Someone broke up with someone and someone ended up in a coma or something.”

“Yeah, and?” he prompts again.

“You and Logan have a band right? The G-Men? I want you to open for us,” she purrs. There it is, the ulterior motive. It had to be somewhere.

“The X-Men...” Charles sighs.

“I'm putting you on the guest list for Friday night. Come see us and we'll talk after the show.” She sounds pleased with herself and Charles hates that he doesn't even try to struggle.

“Okay...”

“It's been nice chatting with you.”

“Yeah.”

“Nice to talk to you,” she says and hangs up. The silence on the line is like some strange form of heaven.

Sean comes home that night to find Charles sprawled in the middle of the carpet motionless. The first few times this happened, Sean had freaked out and almost called an ambulance. But eventually he learned that sometimes Charles slips into other people completely. When shit really hits the fan, he likes to live the life of someone else for a little while to clear his head.

“Hey, Charles,” he says gently, nudging Charles in the side and focusing really hard on projecting Charles' name at him. Charles comes back to himself slowly, blinking up at Sean like he doesn't quite know who he is at first.

“What happened?” Sean asks him, still crouched on the floor. Charles makes an unintelligible noise in response.

“Did Erik break up with you?” Sean guesses. Charles shakes his head.

“Was the store out of that special cheese you like?” Charles shakes his head and makes another noise that sounds suspiciously like the word 'jeans.'

“Oh...” Sean says when he realizes. 

“Well, shit.”

 

 _ Chapter 10 – Things Keep Happening _

“Did Erik break up with you because of that human girl?” is the first thing Raven says when Charles calls her. He's curled up in the only armchair with a blanket and Sean appears to be making chicken soup even though he's not sick.

“What? No? Jean. Why would he do that?” Charles says in confusion.

“What about Jean?” she says, instantly concerned.

“What about Erik and Moira?” Charles asks at the same time. He can hear Raven sigh on the other end of the line.

“Moira attacked him at the library. They sort of fought,” she tells him.

“What? They fought and I wasn't there?” Charles says loudly, almost spilling his tea.

“Yeah. Erik handcuffed her with some cooperate art and left her on the floor. Now tell me what this is about Jean,” Raven says, demanding.

“Oh, she called me,” Charles says.

“Just to be a bitch and crush your soul? Or because she wants something?”

“She wants us to open for her on Sunday. Also how do you know Erik?” Charles says, trying desperately to change the subject.

“He keeps coming in to Mendel's. Also, I met him at your gig,” she says, flipping through a magazine on her bed. “Also, you need to tell me when you break up with people and start dating new ones. It's confusing.” Charles agrees to tell her things more often, even through they both know he probably won't.

“Guys,” Charles says at practice the next day. “I have some really terrible news.”

“Erik broke up with you and we're going to meet your new boy/girlfriend soon?” Alex recites, smirking at the way Charles glares.

“No. Jean Grey wants us to open for The Children of the Atom on Sunday,” he says gravely.

“Ugh, that's your ex right?” Alex says, sound disgusted.

“She's known though. We'd be opening for a known band. We could get known ourselves,” Logan points out.

“No. Sorry. We suck,” Alex says.

“No, we-” Charles tries to say but Logan cuts him off.

“Yeah we suck. Charles, call her and tell her we can't,” Logan growls, trying to change the string on his guitar.

And yet, somehow they end up going to Friday's show.

 

 **FRIDAY**

“It's the first t-shirt day of the year,” Charles says with a grin.

“And yet neither of us is wearing one,” Erik replies. He's not wearing a turtleneck at least and has opted for a button-down in dark red. Charles is wearing a light blue pinstripe, which thankfully does not come accompanied by a sweater vest.

“I'm surprised you're wearing that shirt at all,” Charles says.

“We've been over this. I change clothing most days. It's not a big deal,” Erik tells him with a silent laugh. Charles is constantly expressing his surprise over any item of clothing that Erik wears that isn't the same as the one Charles saw him in last time. Even color changes seem to surprise him and Erik honestly wonders if Charles actually expects him to own a closet full of twenty pairs of the same pants and shirt like a cartoon character, or if he's realized this is a running joke.

Charles walks along next to him towards the venue and sighs softly.

“So. Your ex's band,” Erik prompts. Charles has been mopey about this all day and it's starting to get irritating.

“Yeah. The Children of the Atom,” Charles groans. “I don't know why we're going. Let's go out or something.”

“You said your friends expected you to show. What's her name?”

“Jean Grey,” Charles replies. He can feel the next question forming itself in Erik's mind and answers it preemptively.

“We broke up a little over a year ago. New Years. Yes, I was a little drunk, no I wasn't wasted,” he says in a rush.

“Did she give you a reason?” Erik says. Charles has discovered that Erik is extraordinarily good at catching up when Charles does things like that. It just makes Charles like him more.

“She said she was going to live with her childhood friend and work on music together,” Charles shrugged. It's not the whole truth, not even close, but it's enough to placate most people.

“She left you for a childhood friend?” Erik says, a little incredulous.

“Well I always suspected she and Emma might secretly be doing weird lesbian stuff together. But I don't really understand women, so...” Charles says, glances at Erik and smiling a little.

“That much has been made painfully evident,” Erik says, snorting a little. Charles casts a baleful look at him as they walk along. Then Erik says, “I dated an Emma once,” out of the blue.

“Maybe it's the same one,” Charles replies. “What a small world would that be?”

 

 **THE CONCERT**

They meet up with Charles' friends inside the door. 

“Have you seen her?” Charles asks Logan nervously.

“No,” Logan replies gruffly.

“No sight of her,” Alex supplies.

Logan appears to have shaved, even if his sideburns still come down dangerously close to his chin. Alex is wearing what appears to be a new pair of pants and nicer shoes than usual. Charles can feel the vague hum of nervousness about them both and feels it fueling his own.

The warm up band hasn't even started, so they start milling around and make some attempt to find other people they know.

“Dude, look!” Alex says, pointing across the floor. Moira has her arms wrapped around Hank's waist and he has his arm draped over her shoulders. It has to be the single most awkward couple any of them have ever seen.

“What the hell?” Logan says, staring. They're all staring and can't seem to look away.

“Didn't you date her briefly,” Erik says, leaning over to speak into Charles' ear.

“Very briefly,” he mutters. “Barely at all.”

“I bet Hank is going to date her briefly-er,” Alex says.

“Should we take him out back and pound some sense into him?” Logan asks, cracking his knuckles. He and Alex start discussing the matter just as Charles takes Erik's sleeve and leads his away in the other direction.

Several minutes later, Alex and Logan have decided not to beat Hank up as he would probably win, and end up running into one of Alex's old school friends and her roommate.

[ _Allison Blaire_ ] [ _26 Years Old_ ]

[ _Scott Summers_ ] [ _24 Years Old_ ]

“We're really only here because Scott has a thing for the drummer,” she's telling them.

“Haven't seen him. Hot?” Alex asks, grinning slowly at his brother. They don't generally tell people they're related. It's better that way.

Scott takes a long time to reply, and when he does it's so quiet that they almost miss it.

“Almost as hot as the hell you bitches are going to.” 

Logan takes a liking to him immediately.

Somewhere else, Hank still has his arm around Moira's little shoulders.

“I'm excited to see her,” Moira says cheerfully. The Children of the Atom is absolutely her favourite band and no one else can have them.

“It's been a while,” Hank says.

“Wait,” she says, taking a moment to let it sink in. “You know her?”

“She used to be in a band with Logan and Charles,” Hank says casually. He doesn't even seem to care that much. Moira goes uncharacteristically silent as the information sinks in.

 

 **IT'S TIME**

The warm up band leaves, though most of the people in the venue didn't even notice them arrive. Then the stage goes dark and the smoke machines start rolling fog out. The Children of the Atom walk on stage to the cheers of the crowd and as the lights flick on, the real concert begins.

“ _I want to go home,”_ Charles says directly into Erik's mind. It's way too loud to communicate any other way.

“ _Hey, Charles?”_ Erik thinks back. He'd learned the first time that Charles did this that he can communicate the other direction when Charles opens up a connection.

“ _Yeah?”_

“ _That woman on the bass?”_ Erik thinks, _“It's the same Emma.”_

Charles looks up at her and groans. That means she's Erik's third evil ex.


	7. Chapter 7

** Erik Lensherr and the Infinite Sadness **

_ Chapter 11 – I Envy You _

Erik, Charles and his friends hang around long after the show is over. The floor is littered in trash and being the only ones in a big empty theater is oddly eerie.

“I don't want to see her,” Charles says quietly. “Can we go get pizza or something?” He can tell that no one else really wants to be there either, but for some reason they're all still standing around. Maybe everyone is just waiting for someone else to make the first move towards the door and no one has gotten around to it yet.

“You're not supposed to be here,” an annoyed looking girl says as she comes through a backstage door with a trash bag.

“It's okay,” a familiar voice replies. “They're here to see me.” Jean is standing on the stage looking down at them. The outfit she's wearing now might be less impressive that the green and gold spandex from before, but it's still stinks of high fashion. 

[    _ Jean Grey _   ]  
[  _ 24 Years Old _ ]  
[ _Rating: 100%_ ]

Jean leads the whole group of them backstage which somehow includes Moira and Hank, even though they don't really need to be here. Emma is sprawled elegantly across one of the couches in the green room, dressed in form-fitting white leather and fur. The drummer is standing behind her, a handsome man who appears to be of Spanish descent and doesn't seem to speak. His name turns out to be Janos, but Charles knows that because Jean introduces him. Charles has no intention of poking around in Jean's head.

[ _E_ _mma Frost _ ]  
[ _ Age Unknown _ ]

[ _Janos Quested _ ]  
[  _ Age Unknown  _ ]

Jean sits down next to Emma while Charles, Erik and Alex take up positions on the couch facing them. Left with only one seat, Logan slumps down on Emma's other side and ignores the distasteful glances she sends at him. Hank and Moira lurk by the door, Hank because he doesn't really care and Moira because she gets the distinct impression she's not invited but wants desperately to see her favourite band in person and stalk Charles at the same time.

“Hi Charles,” Jean says.

“Hi Jean,” Charles says.

“Hi Erik,” Emma says.

“Hi Emma,” Erik says.

There's an awkward silence in which Charles looks around to check where the exits are just in case.

“Um, I read your blog,” Moira volunteers quietly. Both Jean and Emma level scorching glares at her and she immediately shuts up.

“So, are you doing anything fun while you're here?” Charles says, struggling to make polite conversation. He can do this. He didn't go to Oxford for nothing.

“Maybe when we get back to Manhattan,” Emma says, examining what appear to be diamonds glued to her perfect nails.

“I've kissed the lips that kissed yours,” Moira says to Jean, suddenly in shock.

“Honey, come here,” Emma says, gesturing to Moira. Moira looks as though she's about to go into shock, but steps over to her on autopilot. Emma stands, brushing her skirt into place with an elegant gesture and before Charles can shout a warning Emma has sent Moira to the floor.

“Hey!” he barks, starting to rise. Even if he's the one who broke up with her, Charles still cares enough to protect her. Erik takes control of every scrap of metal on his body from the zip on his jacket to the watch on his wrist to drag him back down to the sofa in one smooth gesture.

“Whoa,” Alex says, looking at the way Emma's hand has turned crystalline. At least Charles knows what her mutation is for when he ends up having to fight her.

Hank is kneeling by Moira's side, helping her sits up.

“Wasn't her hair auburn before?” Logan asks. That aside, it's also surprising that Logan knows what auburn hair is.

“She punched the mutation right out of her hair!” Charles says in awe. He wants to examine Moira's genetic code now in ways he never has before.

“I'm sorry, I promise I'll be really, really good,” Moira says quietly. Charles is extremely glad to glad that Moira is more shocked than she is hurt.

“I think you and your blue boyfriend should go,” Jean replies. There's not really any malice in it, but it's also true that most of them agree with her. Hank scoops Moira up into his arms and carries her out the door. He's really a good guy and sometimes Charles wishes people would give him a chance.

“You know that was Hank, right?” Logan says. Jean looks at him, genuinely surprised and laughs a little.

“Was it? When did he go blue?”

“Failed experiment,” Charles supplies automatically. Hank doesn't like to talk about it.

“ _Let's go home,”_ Erik thinks at Charles. It hadn't taken him long to get good at projecting thoughts specifically targeted at Charles.

“ _Give me a second. My life is flashing before my eyes,”_ Charles thinks back. Emma smiles almost imperceptibly.

“So, Charles and Erik, huh?” Jean says, looking between them.

        1\. Charles Xavier – Wants to wake up and realize all of this was a crazy dream.

“What of it?” Erik says, arms crossed over his chest.

        2\. Erik Lensherr – Wants to go home.

“You guys make a good couple,” she replies.

        3\. Alex Summers – Wants a burrito, damn it.

“Uh, thanks I think,” Charles replies.

        4\. Janos Quested – Wants unknown.

“So what's your ulterior motive here?” Logan asks.

        5\. Logan Howlett – Wants to schedule their show and go get a beer.

“I'm hurt, Logan, wounded, even,” Jean says, looking at him.

       6\. Emma Frost – Wants to fight Charles and get this over with.

“I don't need an ulterior motive to talk to old friends,” Jean continues.

        7. Jean Grey – Wants to watch Charles suffer.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Hank asks Moira at a nearby diner.

         8\. Hank McCoy – Wants to examine Moira's genes too. Maybe even her jeans.

“Fine,” Moira says miserably.

        9. Moira MacTagget – Wants to sink into the Earth never to be seen again.

“Where are you from?” Jean asks Erik.

“All over.”

“Where originally?”

“Germany.”

“Why New York?”

“My job.”

Erik's responses are short, tailored to contain as few words as possible and display no emotion. It's a little annoying to listen to them go at it, and worse because Charles can hear all the thoughts behind each phrase. Erik is annoyed and a bit protective, which seems to have become his default when people start giving Charles any kind of grief. Jean is enjoying herself immensely and seems to think that Charles deserves this, whatever this is.

Finally, he stands up and declares, “I'm ready” which makes the entire emotional atmosphere of the room switch to confused in under a moment. Everyone stares at him, everyone except Emma who doesn't even seem to care.

Frustrated, Charles jumps up over the table without really knowing what he's doing. He's not used to attacking girls, especially pretty ones, and the punch he tries to throw is shaky at best.

A moment later, his head hurts, he's sprawled on the floor, and Emma is standing over him in full-body crystal form.

“You think too loudly,” she tells him.

“You're?” he says, tasting blood on his lip. Erik is half way to standing up and feels like he wants to tear her to pieces, but Charles sends him a flash of calm and warning and it's enough to placate him for the time being.

“She's a telepath too. Really, you should have figured that out by now,” Jean says from across the room. Charles scrambles back to his feet as they watch and brushes himself off. He presses fingers to his head and tries to read her, but the gestures bounces back and sends a little painful jolt through his brain.

“You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar. You'll never get anything from me while I'm like this,” she tells him. Charles smiles his patent Xavier smile and straightens up.

“It's a groovy mutation, isn't it?” he says. “Did you know most humans only use about ten percent of their brain, maybe a little more? I wrote this paper theorizing that telepathy stems from a mutation that allows a much larger part of the brain to be used, but I could never actually test it because I was the only lab rat I knew at the time.”

“Thank you, Charles, for that useless piece of scientific information.” Alex says eventually. “Now please do us a favor and kick her ass.”

“I don't think he can win this fight,” Jean says. “You're going to have to give up your boyfriend, Charles.”

“What? You know about this?” he gapes.

“Of course I do,” she says, looking smug. “And here you're supposed to be a genius, Charles.”

 

 _ Chapter 12 – It's Only Divine Right _

“I know you're supposed to be Charles old ex-girlfriend, but how exactly do you know each other?” Erik asks. He gets a glare for his trouble.

 

 **THE GOOD OLD DAYS (Or maybe just a bunch of days in the past when most of them were in college.)**

“That guy you brought won't stop chatting up freshmen using bad genetic pick-up lines. Please do something,” Anna leans over and says to Sean at one of their super secret chem lab parties. They always use the beakers to mix drinks at these parties and all the nerds seem to think it's edgy enough to be considered cool.

“Which guy?” Sean says, blinking through a vodka haze.

“The one in the argyle sweater,” she sighs.

“Oh, Charles,” Sean says waltzing off to go save some poor, blonde freshmen with two differently colored eyes from a lecture on heterochromia.

“Darling, you have to stop cheating on me,” Sean says, draping an arm over Charles' shoulders and pretty effectively scaring off the poor girl.

“I liked her,” Charles pouts, but consents to follow Sean back over to his group of friends.

“Anna, Logan, Jean, Hank” Sean says, pointing to each in turn. Charles repeats each one and then shakes the hand of the person in question.

“I think I've seen you in my psychology class,” Jean says, with a cute smile. Charles like her instantly and even though he doesn't remember her, he says that he does. He flashes this little, charming smile he's figured out and gets a pleased little smile back for his trouble.

“He's the T.A. that subbed when my crazy teacher bailed on us that one time,” Jean tells the others. “She said he got some super smart British guy to guest lecture but he never showed.” Charles smiles sheepishly and doesn't correct her. It doesn't really matter anyway.

Later, Charles realizes he doesn't know where the bathroom is and Jean offers to show him. Noyl once they get there, does she realize that she actually only knows where the women's is. She starts laughing and guards the door while he uses it anyway just because he really, really needs to go and doesn't want to waste time looking around dark hallway corners.

 

 **BACK TO NOW**

“She used to be so nice,” Charles says, a little sad. He throws a petulant headache at Emma and only gets it himself after it rebounds.

“Can you actually fight at all?” Erik asks him.

“Not really,” Charles shrugs, making Erik sigh hopelessly.

“Then I think you might need a better plan.”

He does have a point.

 

 **THEN**

Charles and Jean are sitting out in the park on a warm summer day. She's filling out answers on the study sheet for her psychology exam and has been looking for the same answer for almost five minutes. Charles mutters the answer and she floats a pen over to prod him painfully in the side.

“I'm supposed to get it myself,” she laughs.

“Your thinking was getting annoying,” he says, flopping back onto the grass to watch a bunch of ducks fly across the sky.

“Sorry, boy genius,” she says, going back to her work. He and Jean are going out at this point and she's only just recently figured out that he has a PhD in her subject despite the fact they're the same age. It makes her homework a lot easier, but she really does need to learn this stuff for a final exam.

“Hey, this might be a stupid thing to say, but I love you” Charles says quietly. Jean looks up at him and doesn't say anything. He can tell the instant he says it that she doesn't love him back and it's times like these that he hates his mutation.

“Yeah, never mind. That was dumb. Do you want to go get dinner after this?” She nods and they go out for burritos after she's done.

 

 **NOW**

“Charles just kind of lurked around our college,” Jean shrugs.

“She didn't used to be evil,” Charles sighs.

“Look,” Emma says, shifting back into her normal form. “It's almost three and I'm tired. This is silly.”

“She's right,” Jean says, standing up. “We'll meet you for a rematch at The Atomic tomorrow night at seven, okay?” Charles nods. He's actually kind of okay with not being knocked around any more tonight and if he's lucky he'll come up with some kind of plan before tomorrow.

“Why there?” Logan growls.

“Don't you love surprises?” Jean laughs, making for the door with Emma. Janos follows them out like some kind of shadow, leaving Charles to slump back into the sofa with Erik and poke at the bloody split in his lip.

“Well, I'm leaving,” Logan says, getting up. Alex goes with him to get a ride home.

“I can see why you dated her,” Charles smiles.

“Why is that?”

“She's smokin' hot,” he says, laughing as Erik gives him an affectionate swat on the arm. Erik cleans his lip for him with his tongue and to neither of their surprise, it turns into a lengthy kiss instead.

They get up and leave shortly thereafter and find that it's pouring outside. Erik isn't really hungry, but Charles drags him across the street to some kind of shady 24-hour pizza place that seems to get the majority of it's business from pot-heads and concert goers who are still up in the single digits of the morning. The several steps it takes to get from one covered door to another soaks them both through and okay, Erik admits, maybe it would have sucked to walk home through that.

Coincidentally, they find Sean there with Remy who has mysteriously turned up out of the blue after several weeks of absence.

“Charles and Erik, my favourite couple,” Sean says, waving from his place in line. “How's it shakin'?”

“Fine. We were at a show,” Charles says, steps over to him with Erik behind him.

“We went clubbing,” Remy informs him. “Who was playing?”

“Some band from around here,” Charles mutters mutinously, trying to shrug it off as nothing.

“His ex-girlfriend's band,” Erik says over him with a scowl.

“Are you kidding me?” Sean says, looking pissed on their behalf. “She almost put you in a coma and you went to see her show?” Charles can feel the way Erik's interest spikes and instantly wishes Sean hadn't said anything.

“Coma?” Erik asks.

“It's nothing,” Charles says quickly. “She asked us to come.”

“And then we sat around in a dirty room while she harassed Charles,” Erik finishes. Sean doesn't look at all surprised.

“She didn't harass me. She was... pleasant,” Charles says defensively.

“She wanted to watch you squirm,” Erik tells him with a little unhappy frown. Sometimes it unnerves Charles that Erik's not a telepath, but can read people almost as well.

“That unbelievable bitch! If she gets her claws in you again, so help me, Charles-” Sean growls, taking his pizza and sitting down at a table. It's actually kind of sweet the way people get defensive over him, Charles thinks. He doesn't think he really needs it, he is an adult after all, but he's glad his friends care.

“What band is this?” Remy asks and everyone ignores him.

“Charles,” Sean says, “are you wearing my shirt?” Charles looks down and plucks at the shirt on his chest.

“Is it yours?”

“I was wearing it a few chapters ago,” Sean replies.

“I can take it off if you want,” Charles offers.

“Nah, it's okay. Just don't stain it,” Sean says with a slow, pointed stare at Erik. Erik holds up his hands and flashes a toothy grin that's about as reassuring as a shark grinning.

“But about Jean,” Erik says slowly. Sean's fury rekindles in less than a second, shirt forgotten, and Charles wonders when exactly Erik learned to manipulate his friends.

“I'll kick her snooty ass!” Sean rages, biting into his slice of pepperoni pizza.

“The bassist is Erik's third evil ex,” Charles sighs, slumping against the table. There's really no escaping it.

“Charles appears to be extra stupid around Jean, which is something of a problem,” Erik adds and Charles throws a mournful look at him.

“Am I?” he asks and everyone at the table nods vigorously. He looks around and groans before burying his head in his hands again.

“What happened to your new friend?” Remy asks Sean at some point after that.

“Oh, yeah,” Sean says looking around. “I met this awesome guy named Warren. He has wings. He went to get money from the ATM.”

“So, you're saying I should stay at Erik's?” Charles says, looking between Sean and Erik with a pleading look.

“Aren't you going to... train him or something?” Erik says dubiously.

“Please?” Sean begs, holding up his sauce. “I have dipping sauce. I'll be your dipping sauce bitch.”

“He doesn't even have anything to dip in it,” Charles tells him. While Charles had gotten a slice of sausage pizza, Erik had declined the offer of food entirely.

“I'll offer you Charles' virtue,” Sean says after a pause. “I've been keeping it safe.”

“Yeah right,” Remy says.

“It's fine,” Erik says, shrugging. “He can come over. He's just not allowed to talk about his ex.”

“Jealous, are we?” Sean asks with a cat-like grin.

“No. I just can't understand why he would date someone so obviously below him,” Erik says plainly. It's almost nice of him, and it makes Charles grin.

“Let's be friends based on mutual hate,” Sean says, holding out his hand. Erik shakes it easily.

“Oh, Charles. Can you give me your keys? I forgot mine,” Sean says as an afterthought, turning back.

“You invited someone over knowing you didn't have keys?” Charles says incredulously as he reaches into his pocket to fetch his key ring.

“I figured it would work out, and look at that! It did!” Sean grins.

Erik stands up and settles a proprietary hand on Charles' shoulder.

“I'm tired. We're going home,” he informs the others and steps back to give Charles the room to stand up. Charles waves and warns Sean not to loss his keys under any circumstances before stepping out the door with Erik.

They walk home together in a light drizzle. It's not as bad as it was before, but it doesn't get them any closer to being dry. Eventually they end up laying side by side in Erik's bed completely naked because Erik can't be bothered to find dry clothing and Charles can't be bothered to ask.

“So, coma huh?” Erik says at last. Charles has been feeling his curiosity ebb and flow for several minutes now and he's glad Erik finally made up his mind, even if he doesn't really feel like telling the story.

“Does it count as a coma if it's only a few hours?” Charles asks after several moments spent organizing his thoughts.

“That's probably more like passing out,” Erik replies. His head fills with an image of Charles sprawled out and unconscious and finds that he doesn't like it one bit. It's completely different from the beautiful way that Charles sprawls out, flushed and panting, under him in bed.

“Yeah, so it's not really a big deal,” Charles says, hoping against hope that it'll get him out of this conversation.

“It's still a big deal when someone makes you pass out. What happened?” and that question is a little too direct to evade easily.

“Jean used to be a telepath too,” Charles says.

“Used to be?”

“We dated when she was at university. It was finals week for her and she knew everything she really needed to know, but she kept freaking out that she was going to fail. Classic student stuff, you know?” Charles says, sinking into the story bit by bit. He has this defense mechanism where he forgets the details of stories he doesn't want to remember. When he ends up having to thinking about it again, it can take a little while to dredge things out of the bottom of his head.

“She tried using her powers to get more from you?” Erik asks.

“Yeah. We were having sex, so I was already kind of out of it and she didn't actually know how to control her powers. She'd barely used them. So when she tried it just kind of... went wrong,” he finished a little lamely. It sounds so simple told like that. But he remembers how painful it had been, how she'd pushed herself into his head in all the wrong ways and how hard he'd fought to get her out.

“Why is she so angry with you?” Erik says quietly. It's Charles who should be angry, but Charles is what Erik's mother would have called a 'gentle soul' and Erik's not sure he has it in him to blame someone for that long.

“I,” Charles says and then stops because he isn't quite sure how to explain. “I broke her.”

“What does that mean?”

“I turned off her telepathic powers,” Charles says. “She also has some telekinetic abilities, and I left those alone. But I guess the only way I could save my own mind was to completely remove her ability to be in my head at all.”

He sounds almost remorseful and Erik is struck with the desire to shake some sense into him. He doesn't always agree with the silly little rules Charles sets for himself, but he thinks that Jean deserves what happened to her no matter what. Anyone who tries to hurt something as wonderfully perfect as Charles deserves worse, so much worse. Erik would be tempted to hurt her himself if he didn't know that Charles would disapprove.

“Then she broke up with you.”

“Something like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really dislike any of these characters or think they're this bitchy (esp. Moira/Jean/Emma) but someone has to be the bad guy/girl!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be porn. You have been warned.

_ Chapter 13 – What Makes Us Closer _

Erik makes him tea in the morning and they sit at Erik's little kitchen table and munch their way through a plate of toast. The sky is still dark and heavy with clouds that promise rain, but Charles laughs it off and says he'll be fine walking home on his own when Erik offers to take him home on his motorcycle.

The skies open up when he's half way home and the clothing that he'd stuck in Erik's dryer that morning is soaked all over again. He's already lamenting not having taken a ride or an umbrella when he reaches his own door, and realizes with a miserable sound that he doesn't even have his keys because he'd lent them to Sean.

“Open up, you bastard,” he yells, pounding on the door. It doesn't open, even after several repeated attempts, and he lets his head fall against it with a wet slap as he realizes Sean might not even be home at all.

“Charles, what are you doing?” Sean's voice says behind him. Charles thinks in that moment that he may never have been happier to hear Sean's stupid voice in his life. Sean lets him in and sends him straight to the bathroom to drip in the shower as he peels off layers of water logged fabric.

Doing so reminds of this other time he'd stood in a shower and peeled off wet clothing and the memory makes him smile.

“Hey, Sean” he yells.

“What?” Sean yells back.

“Remember the time with the goat?” he shouts and listens to Sean explode into laughter.

 **THE TIME WITH THE GOAT (It's not what you think) – Scotland**

 

[ _ Charles Xavier _ ]

[      _ 17 Years    _ ]

[  _ Hair: Lengthy _ ]

Charles has family in Scotland. It's as good an excuse as any to go to Scotland, stay with aforementioned family, and run around having adventures during a school break. Charles has never been to Scotland, but he's seen pretty photos and Braveheart so he figures it'll probably be a bunch of men in kilts drinking beer and getting out the blue face paint or something. That's pretty much what Oxford is like some nights, so he figures he'll fit right in.

As it turns out, Scotland, or at least the bit he goes to, is actually filled with a lot of farmers and a lot more sheep, both of which tend to stare at him in the same, vacant way. His extended family turns out to be one batty old great aunt once removed or something ridiculous he can't remember who owns six cats and almost as many tea sets that she is more than happy to give him daily lectures on.

So Charles decides to make the best of it by getting a lift into the nearest town that has more than one store and buying an old camera and as much film as he can carry. In the following days, he proceeds to go out on a lot of hikes. He fills roll after roll of film with photos of anything interesting he can find and somehow, miraculously, he finds he's actually enjoying himself. He might, though he won't admit it, even be enjoying himself more than he would have if he were drinking himself silly and hitting on the pretty local ladies as originally planned.

That is until one day when he's out on a mountain and looking out at the most impressive bank of clouds he's ever seen and hears screeching from somewhere up above. Charles is absolutely sure it's an animal for about five minutes until he starts hearing very distinctive swear words mixed in with the rest of the noise and starts running to help.

What he finds once he rounds a bend in the path about a mile up, is a very odd situation indeed. There's a ginger kid about his age screeching at a truly impressive volume at a goat that's standing in the middle of the path and chewing its way through what appears to be all the items in a backpack. It's not even a particularly interesting or large goat. But Charles slips into the mind of the kid for a just a minute to check on the situation and realizes what whoever this is, he is really and truly stoned about of his mind.

“That fucking goat!” Sean screams. “That's my fucking sandwich!”

Charles tries screaming back, but the ability of his lungs and vocal cords can't even begin to compare so he takes a chance and lifts fingers to his head, speaking directly into his mind.

“Calm your mind,” he thinks loudly and it startles the poor kid so badly he falls over. At least he stops screaming.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, trying to focus.

“Charles Xavier,” he says, holding out his hand to help Sean up. Sean neglects to respond with his own name, but Charles just pulls it out of his head anyway.

[ _ Sean Cassidy _ ]

[     _ 18 Years    _ ]

[ _Hair: Ginger_ ]

“Why did I just hear you telling me to calm my tits, but inside my head?” he says slowly and Charles starts laughing.

“I told you to calm your mind, my friend. I have... a special ability,” Charles tells him carefully. It's better now than it was fifty years ago, but even now people don't always like his kind.

“Oh, good. Mutant like me, is it?” Sean says, dragging himself up with Charles' help and dusting his coat off.

“So it would seem,” Charles says and looks back at the goat.

“Why were you shouting at a goat?” he asks.

“It's eating my shit,” Sean replies, gesturing at it. “I was trying to scare it off.”

“Why don't you just, I don't know, shoo it away?” Charles is still pretty amused by the whole situation. He takes a step towards the goat to get Sean's stuff back for him, and the thing shoots him a look that makes him instantly reorder all his priorities. Maybe it's those eyes and the creepy sideways pupils.

“What the fuck?” he says and Sean claps him on the back.

“Exactly.”

Charles and Sean settle down to play hangman and drink disgustingly strong alcohol out of a hip flash that Sean has tucked away somewhere. Charles learns that Sean is in a situation a bit like his own and they're both so starved for proper company that even sitting on a rock and playing hangman seems like a party. Sean is from New York like he is, and he's spending the summer before college with his grandparents who live in some big manor house close by.

Eventually the goat gives up and wanders off, taking several notebooks and a pen with it. When it does, they scramble up and retrieve the sad, chewed remains of what may once have been a backpack. Sean pulls everything he wants out of it, makes a pile of sticks he claims is a traditional funeral pyre, and lights everything on fire with a cheap plastic lighter.

They're half way through the funeral and trying desperately not to crack up when is starts raining. The place where they're standing is about an hour out from anywhere civilized, so there's really no helping it. But they're also on top of a mountain and happen to be the tallest thing around. Sean and Charles look at each other the moment the first lightning bolt cracks overhead and start sprinting.

Charles does actually have a poncho with him, but as he goes to pull it out he realizes that it's him or his camera and he has to chose now. He chooses the camera and is subsequently shivering so hard it hurts when they get to Sean's house and stumble inside.

Sean ushers him upstairs, complaining that the maid will see the puddles, and shoves him in the shower before demanding that he strip. He doesn't leave. In fact, Sean starts stripping himself and doesn't stop until he's completely stark naked and in an attempt not to be awkward, Charles does the same, eyes averted, and grabs the robe Sean hands him with a bit too much force.

They end up getting trashed and playing Mario late into the night, and it's the beginning of a long and terrible friendship.

 

 **BAND PRACTICE – Saturday Afternoon**

“Do we suck?” Logan says to Erik. Somewhere in his head, Logan thinks that Erik is an unbiased third party. Strictly speaking it's not true, but Erik doesn't tend to pull punches and Charles assumes the same is true for him. That's also not true either, strictly speaking. But they can all have their fantasies.

“Sort of,” Erik shrugs, “but I've heard worse from bands with record deals.”

“Let's do that set again,” Alex says from his place behind the drums and starts tapping out the rhythm before any of them are quite ready.

“So what are you supposed to be, the cookie monster?” Erik says to Hank as he leans back on the tattered sofa. There's a moment in which Charles is terrified that Hank is going to start choking Erik until he falls to the floor.

“Don't mock me,” Hank says flatly. Erik seems to sense that he just barely got out of that one unscathed and doesn't pursue the topic any further.

He waits for Charles to finish up and they go out for an early dinner at Sushi Sushi because Charles claims he needs it to keep his strength up to fight Emma. They both know it's just an excuse to get sushi, but it's not as if either of them care. They end up in a corner booth with a sushi boat that's way bigger than they can finish because Charles kept going down the sushi menu and checking everything that sounded good.

Erik regales him with stories about the strange people he's met delivering packages and Charles is laughing so hard he can barely swallow the food in his mouth.

When they finish, Erik snatches the check out from under his nose even though Charles argues that it's not a problem and he doesn't mind handling it. They bicker about it a bit, but in the end Charles gives up and lets him have it. Once out on the sidewalk, they start walking toward The Atomic to meet Jean and Emma.

“Let's not go,” Erik says suddenly.

“What?” Charles says. It's not like Erik to skip out on obligations, or at least, it's not like Charles' mental idea of Erik to do that. Maybe it's something Erik himself does all the time. Charles doesn't really know him that well.

“She only wants to play with you some more. Let's go home,” Erik says, shrugging. Charles kind of likes the way that Erik says 'home' instead of 'my place.' It's kind of like he just assumes it's Charles home too.

“You mean, just not show up at all?” Charles says.

“I'm getting sick of not strangling your ex and I've always wanted to see if I could break Emma's crystal form.” It's actually a little intimidating the way Erik talks about this kind of stuff like it's nothing. It's not really surprising that everyone thinks Erik is all 'hard core' or whatever it is they say about him.

“I guess they don't know where you live or your phone number,” Charles shrugs.

“Exactly. We'd only be shirking duties randomly made up for us by people we hate,” Erik says, turning on the spot to start walking in the direction of his house. Charles follows suit and catches the end of a thought wherein Erik is wondering if they should have sex when they get back.

“I think we should,” Charles says, laughing softly when Erik raises eyebrows at him.

They get in Erik's front door and have some semblance of a normal conversation. They remove shoes and coats and set up a chessboard in the middle of Erik's bed. Charles had bought it a few days before because he thought it was ridiculous that neither of them owned one.

Charles ends up winning by a narrow margin, but he's pretty sure that's because Erik has been staring at the little patch of skin showing between the unbuttoned edges of Charles' shirt for the last several minutes. He smiles and files that information away for the next time he thinks he's about to lose a game.

He's just started packing the pieces away when Erik leans over and kisses him, fierce and claiming, and pushes him back. Charles laughs, bright and happy, and sprawls out over the sheets, chess pieces forgotten as Erik bites and kisses his way down to the juncture between neck and shoulder. There's a fading patch of color there that's almost gone and which Erik seems set on renewing. Charles had figured out early on that Erik is surprisingly possessive. He likes to have something to look at once he's done, as though he wants to make sure he didn't dream the entire thing. Charles indulges him, nudging him down sometimes when Erik's mouth threatens to make a mark Charles wouldn't be able to hide with a strategic collar.

In return Erik tolerates the way Charles loves to mess up his perfect hair and the way Charles refuses to wear socks in bed. He likes to taste the flush that spreads along Charles' cheeks and drips down his chest when he's like this, chasing it along pale skin as he unbuttons Charles' shirt from the top down.

They pause to get Erik's turtleneck off over his head and then Erik goes right back to what he was doing while Charles fumbles around trying to get Erik's belt undone and pants open. Charles tends to lose coordination surprisingly fast when they get going, so Erik just thinks about it and both of their belts are open and off. Charles leaves the undressing to him, he's so much better at it anyway, and trails fingers around the curve of Erik's waist and up along the shape of his spine, gasping a little when Erik bites down particularly hard.

Charles drags Erik up for a urgent kiss and feels the little surge of power that means Erik just summoned condoms and lube from his bedside table. It makes Charles laugh a little to think that Erik must have stood around in the store and chosen things based on whether or not the packaging contained metal. Erik smiles against his mouth in response and a rustling, tearing sound later Erik is sliding a slick, careful finger into him that makes him shudder.

He isn't quite used to it yet, despite everything. He's used to topping and used to girls but he thinks he's starting to get the hang of this as well. Erik has always been nice to him in these situations, perhaps even too careful, and sometimes Charles has to give him gentle little nudges to get him to hurry up and get on with it.

A second finger and Charles makes a gentle sound that spikes when Erik curls his fingers. More than anything Erik loves to take Charles apart like this, piece by piece, and watch him writhe and moan until Erik can see the brilliant mind behind those eyes stutter to a halt.

“Perfection,” Erik breathes.

Erik is three fingers in and fucking him slowly when Charles opens his eyes, just for a moment and catches the way Erik is looking at him so intensely it scares him. It's like Erik has never in his life seen anything more beautiful or like Charles is the center of some universe and Erik wants nothing more than to circle around him forever. It's so alien, so different from the way anyone else has ever looked at him that Charles isn't entirely sure what to do. But then Erik catches him looking and the expression disappears, shuttered behind things that are more normal, comfortable things like lust and a slow amusement at the sounds escaping Charles' red mouth.

“Alright?” Erik asks quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to Charles' lips. Charles nods and then Erik's fingers are gone and he's rushing to kick off his underwear and roll on a condom before settling between Charles legs. Charles can feel him there and he ends up gasping and making a long, low sound in his throat as Erik pushes inside the tight ring of muscle. It's easier after that and Charles loses the piece of time between then and the point when he realizes Erik is almost completely seated inside him and he can't remember how to breath.

Charles hasn't connected with anyone during sex since the thing with Jean. He's practiced over and over again keeping every last thought to himself. It's about as good at human sex, that is to say pretty damn good, but lately Erik keeps pushing, projecting at him over and over again to take it farther, to let him feel. “Do it,” Erik whispers he pulls out slowly and rocks his hips forward, pressing deeper still and making Charles arch beautifully.

“I can't,” Charles gasps.

“You're not human,” Erik breaths against his ear. “You're so much more than that.” Charles can feel how Erik is opening up his mind for Charles and it's a little bit intimidating that Erik trusts him that much. But Erik isn't a telepath and he doesn't want to take anything, wants only to share and to give. So Charles finally relents. He's run out of reasonable excuses.

Charles eases into Erik's head slowly. Then he makes a choked sound and tightens his grip on Erik's arm when he realizes he can feel what Erik is feeling, how it feels to be inside himself. It's a complete and utter head trip to feel both sides at once, so naturally he forwards the feeling to Erik, completing a kind of loop that has them both moaning as Erik's hips stutter in surprise.

“Oh, fuck,” Erik hisses and starts fucking into him in earnest because he can't help himself. It's a little too hard and Charles has to take a moment to adjust and then he's making these perfect little vocalizations each time Erik thrusts and Erik finds that he adores each one and wants to lick them out of Charles mouth. Everything about Charles is so perfect and he doesn't deserve it.

Erik is panting against the skin of his neck and Charles' hands are slipping from Erik's shoulders as he struggles to hold on. It's over almost embarrassingly quickly, but they're both too busy dragging air into their lungs and wondering at what might be the best sex of their lives to really care. Charles finds that it's actually a little bit difficult to extract himself from Erik's mind after that and has to untangle the knots one by one until they're free. Erik holds himself up, arms on either side of Charles' chest, just staring at Charles in surprise the same way Charles is staring at him.

They break into identical grins at the same time, Erik collapses on him and Charles starts putting up a fuss about how heavy Erik is. He doesn't actually get off, but he and Charles manage to shuffle around enough to get comfortable. Charles wraps arms around Erik and sends him an accusing little thought about how sore he's going to feel tomorrow and how he has to play in front of a whole bunch of people. Erik ignores him completely.


	9. Chapter 9

_ Chapter 14 – The Time Has Come _

“Check out my new haircut! I am now ready for the show,” Charles says, striding into Hank's house for a preshow dinner and planning session.

“You got a haircut? I can't even tell,” Alex says, looking at him. It does look pretty much the same, although the sixties probably don't want their sideburns back from Charles' face anymore.

Charles sits down and feels around to find that his friends aren't exactly excited about tonight. He isn't really either, but he's going to try his hardest anyway.

“We're really going to do this,” Logan says slowly. It's obviously that he's still worrying that they suck, but this is the most he's going to say on the subject.

“This is our moment,” Charles tells him. “It'll be fine.”

“A moment that will live on in horrible infamy for years to come. At least I don't have a reputation to upload,” Alex mutters mutinously.

“Oh come on. It won't be like last time,” Charles says to Logan. “We're better than before and your songs are great and we're just going to go have a good time.”

“Last time?” Alex asks. He wasn't there when Logan and Charles where in a band with Jean. He doesn't know.

“Dark Phoenix,” Hank says over a chemistry book.

“Dark Phoenix,” Logan grumbles.

“Dark Phoenix,” Charles sighs.

“What the fuck is Dark Phoenix?” Alex snaps.

 

 **FLASHBACK TIME (Alex hates these)**

“You invited him to play?” Logan growls. Logan isn't exactly a team player by nature, but he still would have liked to be consulted before a decision like this was made.

“He's good,” Jean says. “We need a good drummer. Charles, can you switch to base?”

“I don't know how to play base,” Charles whines.

“Just find some underclassmen who knows how and learn,” she says dismissively. Charles doesn't really want to do that, but he doesn't argue.

“It's nice, but you suck at playing it,” Logan says later when Charles presents his new base, purchased the closest pawn shop.

“I know,” Charles moans. But he'd agreed, so he keeps trying to learn on his own anyway.

“We're being courted by major record labels,” Logan says weeks later in something like shock.

“I know,” Charles replies, staring at the blank walls in his room.

“We could get known,” Logan tells him.

“I know,” Charles says quietly, glancing at the bass he only barely knows how to play now.

Dark Phoenix got pretty big in the end. Then shit happened.

 

 **CEREBRO (Rebuilt and better than ever) – The Night of the Big Show**

“Hey Charles,” someone calls and he looks around to find Sean, his sister, and Armando sitting on a table surrounded by beer.

“Who gave her that?” Charles says automatically.

“I'm old enough to drink now, Charles,” she says. It might be true, but it's only been a few months and he's still stuck in big brother mode most of the time.

“We figured we'd get started on the drinking early,” Sean says, raising his beer at Charles.

“Charles, did you know I hate Jean Grey?” Raven says seriously. Sean high fives her and it's obvious they're both a little past sober already.

“No, I did not know that,” Charles says sarcastically.

“You'd better make her look bad. I came here to watch you rock this place,” she demands and Charles has to love her a little bit.

“Yeah, you better believe it,” he says, forcing a wide grin before trudging off in another direction.

 

 **SOMEWHERE ELSE – Where Erik Is**

“You dated her?”one of them asks.

“For how long?” the other one says. Erik has been backed into a corner by two of Anna's gossipy friends and the sound of their voices is really grating on his nerves. He doesn't even know what their names are, just annoying one number 1 and an annoying one number 2.

“I don't want to talk about it,” he groans and tries to escape towards the bar to get a proper drink. Miraculously, Erik is saved when Charles gets to the bar at the same time he does.

“The strongest shot you have,” Charles says miserably.

“Easy there,” Erik says, patting him on the shoulder. “Don't pass out before you even play.” Charles gives him a mournful look, so Erik orders the same shot and two larger drinks that are more fruit than they are alcohol just to make Charles smile. The bartender even add umbrellas.

“Prost,” he says in German and taps shot glasses with Charles before they both tips their heads back and down the liquor.

The pair of them wander around, sipping at their surprisingly good fruity drinks and run into some of Alex's friends that Charles only vaguely knows.

[     _ Allison Blaire     _ ]  
[ _ Works at the video _ ]  
[  s _ tore with Alex.   _ ]

[ _ Scott Summers _ ]  
[ _ Alex's Brother. _ ]   
[  _ No one knows. _ ]

“You guys came to see Children of the Atom twice?” he says in surprise.

“No we came to see you guys,” the girl says.

“I came for Children of the Atom's drummer and the drummer alone,” Scott mutters. Charles smiles at him and says, “it's nice of you to come support him” which everyone but the two of them thinks is a really weird comment. Of course Charles knows the other reason Scott is here.

They stand around and chat for a bit, but eventually the first warm up band starts to set up and Charles realizes he has to go because The X-Men are on after this band.

“I'll see you guys later,” he says, waving and pushing away through the thickening crowd.

“I'm Storm and these are The Boys,” a familiar voice says through the speaker system as Charles slips in through the backstage door. He goes straight through to a fire exit in the back that they usually prop open so that they can get a little peace and quiet in the back alley. That's exactly what Charles is hoping to get just to calm his nerves a bit, but when he arrives he knows that it might as well be a distant dream. Jean is standing there having a cigarette. Charles didn't even know she smoked.

“Hi, Charles,” she says.

“Hi, Jean,” he says quietly, leaning back against the brick.

“I had an idea,” she says, still in that unreadable voice. He absolutely refuses to touch her mind at all.

“What's that?” he asks in his best imitation of a casual tone.

“Maybe we could talk like normal people, like we used to,” she admits after a slow inhale and exhale of smoke.

“How can I talk to you normally. Look at you,” he says, gesturing at the ridiculous outfit she's wearing.

Jean's Outfit:  
Solid Gold Jewelry  
Expensive Skanky Dress  
Shiny Gold Stockings (not cheap)  
$900 Boots

Total Price of Outfit: 50 billion dollars.

She looks down at herself and sighs a little.

“I guess my stylist went a little out of control today,” she admits, and then finally “I guess I should get going now.”

“Yeah, you probably should,” Charles tells her. He watches as she puts out her cigarette on a trash can and steps into the light streaming from the half-open door.

“Hey, Jean?” he says as she goes. She looks back at him in question as he says “did we ever talk like normal people?”

“No, I don't think so,” she says at last with a sad smile and disappears inside.

Charles stays outside for a little longer to appreciate the peace and quiet he'd wanted from the start. He wishes it didn't have to come with a side dish of hurt, but life just sucks that way sometimes.

At some point Charles realizes that there's a little curled form sitting at the junction between alley and street, and as he reaches out with his mind, he realizes that it's Moira.

“Hi,” he says quietly, slumping down the wall to sit next to her. She looks up and the sudden rush of happiness he feels from her is heartbreaking.

“How are you?” Charles asks. There's a part of him that almost doesn't want to know, that no matter what she says he'll know part of it is his fault.

“I'm okay. It's been a weird few weeks, you know?” she says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“It's just... I mean I'm not totally happy or anything but I don't think I could go back to my old oblivious self. Even through all the heartbreak and all the confusion... it's still better this way.” She looks like she's about to cry and against all better judgment, Charles wraps an arm around her shoulders and lets her lean into him.

“Was it really that bad?” he says. He doesn't need to ask, not really, but he's tried so hard not to think about it.

“Yeah it was,” she tells him, wiping her eyes. “But I think I've learned something, you know? I know more now.”

“The way Envy treated you the other day wasn't right. I should have stood up for you,” Charles admits, looking away guiltily.

“It's okay, Charles. I'm over it. I can take a hit,” she says, trying so hard to sound cheerful it hurts.

“It-” Charles starts, faltering a little, “it wasn't right how I treated you either. You deserved better.” Moira's mind is glowing with hope then and Charles is torn between wishing he hadn't said anything and knowing that it was something he needed to say.

“No,” he says before she can ask. “Look, Moira, Sean was telling the truth when he said you're too good for me.”

“No he wasn't!” she says, turning to look at him with big eyes.

“Yeah, he was. But I have to go set up, I'm probably late already.” He stands up quickly, pulling her with him before stepping back to a safe, friendly distance. He probably could have spared a few extra minutes, really, but Charles has never really been good with stuff like this and it's as good a reason to run away as any.

“Good luck,” she tells him, regret evident in her voice. She really means it though and that only confirms that he never deserved her.

“Goodnight,” he says and turns to rush back inside before he can feel whatever it is she's projecting after him.

 

 **THE BAR – Erik seems to like hanging out here.**

Erik has just been abandoned by Alex and Logan who have gone backstage to find Charles and get ready. So he's left alone again and opts to fortify himself with another drink before braving the company of Raven and Sean.

“It'll be easy to replace her,” a familiar voice says somewhere to his right. Erik looks over and sees Emma talking to someone who looks suspiciously like a talent scout. He has the self-important air about him that speaks of how much power he thinks he has over the rest of the peons in this pitiful venue.

“She's a decent singer,” the scout is arguing.

“I was hoping for more of a solo deal,” Emma says sweetly. It's almost disgustingly obvious how she's using her breasts and her powers to woo her victim. She might as well be some kind of white, poisonous spider sitting on a web. It's probably already too late to escape.

“I think we could make it work,” the man says slowly, staring right at her cleavage. Erik looks away and does his best to block out the vapid noise of the conversation until Emma tows her victim away by the collar. If Charles and his band don't start playing soon and give him something to look at, Erik is concerned he might throttle somebody.

He's about to flag the bartender down for a refill when someone leans against the bar next to him. It always seemed to happen this way: no peace for Erik when all he wants is a drink.

“Erik, right?” Jean says. She's already wearing a new outfit that's less skanky than her old one, if only by a small margin.

“Mmm,” he hums and spares her a glance.

“I just thought I'd apologize for being a bitch this weekend,” she says coolly, sipping at a drink of her own. It's bright pink.

“Yeah?” Erik says, not particularly wanting to encourage this conversation to continue.

“We're not so different,” she starts. Erik is pretty certain that they have almost nothing in common.

“How's that?” he says blandly.

“We both think we like to live on the edge, and then there's Charles” Jean says, looking at him.

“Kind of the opposite of living dangerously, isn't he?” Erik says.

“Maybe not as much as you think,” Jean says, shrugging. “I've been hearing rumors about you, Lensherr.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, a little amused.

“They say you're Shaw's little pet.” She watches him carefully and finds what she's looking for in the twitch of his jaw. The name Shaw doesn't mean anything to her, but the way certain people say the name sounds pretty important.

“I don't know what you're talking about. But I am this close to kicking your ass,” Erik forces out between gritted teeth.

“I don't think you could,” Jean smirks, tossing her artfully style hair. Maybe she's trying to wind him up because she wants a fight, or maybe she just wants to see how Charles will react when she messes with something important to him.

“That's pretty rich coming from someone who can't even use most of her powers,” Erik snaps back, voice dark with barely suppressed anger.

“You bastard,” Jean hisses and there, Erik thinks, that was exactly the right button to push.

He straightens up and reaches out, feeling the vague pull of every metal object for ten feet around from jewelry to zippers to the filaments in the light bulbs. One of the beautiful things about humans, Erik thinks, is how obsessed with metal they are. He's always armed, always be ready no matter where he goes. Perhaps only if he were dumped, naked, in the middle of the wilderness, would he be completely defenseless.

Jean glares at him and throws her glass at the floor. It looks for all the world like a petty show of childish anger, but then the shards are floating up again and making a straight line for his face and chest. Erik pulls the nice metal lighter from the pocket of someone nearby and thins it out into a sheet in a blink of an eye, fending off the fragments of glass with a gesture.

People have started noticing, forming a ring around them and pressing closer to watch.

“Jean is fighting some guy!” they shout as more people come running. They've started cheering for Jean which is incredibly annoying. Erik doesn't want the attention for himself, but it's distracting and utterly shallow of them.

“I'm popular. Of course they're cheering for me,” Jean says, either reading the look off his face or taking a good guess. She smirking, obviously reveling in the attention.

“Smash her horsey face in!” Sean screams from behind him and Erik laughs darkly at the shocked expression on Jean's face. It's absolutely priceless.

 

 _ Chapter 15 – The Infinite Sadness _

Jean throws a few bottles of expensive whiskey at him, much to the annoyance of the bartender. In response, Erik pulls pieces from the metal kick rail screwed to the front of the bar and shatters them all before they can hit anything. Then he pulls another lighter from another pocket and clicks the mechanism mid-air, dropping it into a pool of leaking fluid to set it ablaze. Sure, he'll admit it's a little flashy, but Erik is pretty sure he can be forgiven for that. It also gives him time to think as the flames burn themselves out on the concrete floor.

It's an interesting situation, Erik decides. On the one hand, he can only control metal objects while Jean can toss around anything she likes, but on the other, he can change the shape and form of the objects he uses which is an ability he has yet to see her match.

Jean tosses a petulant bar stool at him, which is really a bit obvious. It makes Erik wish he was carrying a knife tonight so he could checkmate her with a blade to her throat and be done with this business. Then again, maybe he does want a bit of fun after all. It's been a while.

Jean actually starts to look concerned when he pulls gently at her earrings and then at the metal closures on her skirt. She positively whimpers when he feels for the metal filling in one of her bottom molars and stalks steadily closer. He's closed the distance between them by half when she smashes someone's Sex on the Beach over his head and knocks him flat.

Erik lays on his back for a moment and laments his completely inability to sense approaching glass. His hair is wet and sticky and he dearly hopes that's the drink and not blood as he climbs to his feet in one smooth gesture. Blood is something he could handle, but Charles would probably completely flip out and Erik doesn't want to worry him. It's always about Charles these days, and that's something Erik tries very hard not to think about. It's extremely concerning.

The X-Men walk onto the stage then and Erik glances over to find Charles staring at him.

“ _What are you doing?”_ Charles thinks straight into Erik's head.

“ _Nothing,”_ Erik thinks back, which is definitely the wrong thing to think so he switches to, _ “nothing I can't handle” _ instead.

Logan, Alex, and Charles are all wearing perfectly pressed suits which is an unusual look for them, though if Erik weren't currently in the middle of something he'd admit to rather liking the clean lines on Charles' figure. Hell, he's busy and he still likes them.

Logan introduces the band in his microphone and Alex settles on his seat behind the drums, neither of them very concerned with the happens on the floor below. Only Charles is still staring, arms lax at his sides.

“Charles,” Logan hisses, hand over the microphone. Shaking out of his daze, Charles readies himself for the first song, but can't quite stop worrying about Erik the entire time. No one would be comfortable when two of the people they've dated start duking it out.

“WE ARE THE X-MEN. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR,” Alex screams.

 

 **THE BAD OL' DAYS**

“I wrote you a song,” Charles tells Jean, reclining on her dorm room bed.

“Why?” she says at last after a very long and weird pause.

“Just, because,” Charles says, shrugging. He'd kind of hoped she'd want to hear it or at least give him a thank you kiss or something. Those seemed like normal reactions for a situation like this.

“Oh, okay,” she replies, pulling off her shirt. Charles assumes that means it's time for sex and sits up so he can get his own clothing off too.

They go to some weird club the next night that's a little too smokey and a little too creepy for Charles' tastes. Girls keep hitting on him but he's pretty sure most of them were prostitutes and they keep calling him weird pet names like “little boy.”

“He said he was considering signing us for a deal,” Jean is telling them. Logan is slouching around like he owns the place, which is pretty much standard, but Charles is still nervous.

“I don't think we should sign it,” he admits.

“Don't be a pussy. It's a contract,” Jean snaps at him and he recoils a little. Considering that he was the one that pulled most of this band together in the beginning, Charles feels like he should get a say in this. But apparently Jean doesn't agree.

You can leave if you don't want to be a part of it. Go get a haircut,” Jean tells him. Charles stands up and hesitates for so long the awkward atmosphere starts to hurt. Then he walks out the door. If he hadn't been so busy worrying about other things, Charles might actually be proud of himself for that.

People have told Charles that he should have broken up with her right then and there. Raven and Sean have pointed out a million times when they should have broken up that would have saved them all from the drama that followed. Charles usually just laughs it off. Maybe, he thinks, he's a little stupid in that way.

 

 **CEREBRO**

Charles starts the bass line for the first song in the set and falls into rhythm with the rest of them. He watches in horror as Erik and Jean continue to exchange blows, flinging debris in all directions. It all comes to a head when Erik is about to impale Jean on a piece of pipe, hand outstretched and Jean has the splintered end of a broken chair legs pressed between his shoulder blades.

 _ Oh god, _ Charles thinks,  _ oh god, they're going to kill each other. _ He knows he can't just let this happen but he's not really sure what to do. He's stuck watching and fretting and royally messing up whatever he's supposed to be playing right now. Erik can't get hurt, that's just unthinkable, and no matter what holes Jean has ripped in his heart, Charles would never be able to live with himself if he just let her die. Sometimes Charles catches Erik thinking about how naïve he is, but unfortunately it's just the way he is.

“Enough,” Charles barks, which startles everyone in the venue, including himself, because he happens to be standing right in front of a microphone. Erik doesn't look anywhere close to letting up so Charles does the only thing he can think of and drops Jean to the floor dead away unconscious. Then he jumps off the stage and pushes his way through the crowd, a feat that doesn't prove to be all that difficult. Their shows are not know for drawing dense crowds to the stage.

Erik is standing bemused in the middle of the little clearing and looking down at the sprawled body before him. He has also lowered the pipe, Charles is glad to note.

“You can do that?” he says offhandedly.

“It's pretty easy,” Charles admits, crouching next to Jean and nudging her gently awake with his mind and a hand on her shoulder. He can't just leave her there or the fans will probably starts molesting her unconscious body.

“Come on,” Charles says. Jean blinks up at him blearily for a moment before drawing back with an expression of absolute fury. Charles is a little sad to see the path things have taken. He remembers the sweet little girl, even if no one else does.

“Why don't you pick on another telepath like Emma, not someone you already broke” Jean hisses at him. Charles bites his lip and stands up, stepping back to get her the space she deserves.

“Speaking of Emma, I haven't seen her for a while now,” Erik hums, looking only mildly interested in the drama unfolding before him. Charles can feel that Erik is, in fact, very interested but would prefer not to appear so. It's useless to hide things with a telepath, but Charles lets him get away with it anyway.

“She's here,” Jean says, looking around.

“She's probably out talking to that talent scout about her solo career or getting kinky with your drummer,” Erik says with a wicked smile. He's definitely enjoying this. The way Jeans face drops and Emma walks in exactly at that moment is almost comical. Charles would laugh if he didn't feel so terrible for her.

The people around them go uncharacteristically silent at this declaration. They might not understand most of what's being discussed, but everyone knows that betraying the band to go solo is considered 'totally not cool' in any circle. There may even be a special circle of musician hell for deserters like that.

Emma stands still for a moment, takes stock of the room, and says, “I see” in one elegant gesture.

“Sorry, sweetie, it was just a good offer” she says to Jean.

“Oh, don't lie,” Erik says, that predatory smile stuck on his face, “I heard you manipulating that man into taking only you.” Jean looks, if possible, close to crying as she struggles to her feet.

“You bitch,” she screams and Charles covers his face with his hand. The crowd starts cat-calling, demanding fighting, stripping of clothing and a vicious make-out session. It's pretty pathetic.

“For once, I know something that you don't,” Erik leans to mutter in Charles ear, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“What is that?” Charles says glumly.

“Emma doesn't do cat fights,” Erik tells him. Charles doesn't completely understand what Erik is talking about until Jeans gets closer to Emma and then- wham. Emma delivers a closed fist, straight armed punch straight to Jean's face. There's no slapping or scratching or pulling of hair.

“I taught her that,” Erik says proudly.

“No you didn't, sweatheart. I taught you,” Emma replies coolly as Charles scurries to check on Jean. She's bleeding from the nose, but appears not to be sporting any injures worse than that an a sorely injured pride.

“Hardly,” Erik scoffs. He's about to turn away when Emma says something that Charles will not-so-fondly remember as the moment that shit really hit the fan.

“Shaw says hi, by the way.”

Six little words and Erik's blood runs cold. Charles, who is generally more attuned to Erik's moods, snaps his head up and tries to call a warning. He's not sure if he's too late or if not a single person in the room actually gives a flying fuck what he has to say because Erik has just pulled a great mass of ductwork down from the ceiling and wrapped pieces of it around Emma's wrists and ankles, forcing her back against the nearest wall.

She's in her crystaline form, but Charles is reminded of a comment Erik had made before, something about wanting to see if he could break it, and he is suddenly very concerned.

“You'll be alright?” he asks Jean in a rush. She nods and he pushes to his feet, running the few steps over to stand next to Erik.

“Erik,” he says, trying to catch the mans attention. Charles tries again, echoing the word as a projected thought. It doesn't work.

“Tell me where he is. Where's Shaw,” Erik says, voice low and dripping with malice. For the first time since Charles has known her, Emma looks genuinely afraid. She doesn't respond, just glances at her bonds, and that only infuriates Erik further. He begins to twists more metal around her, snaking up arms and around her neck and chest.

“Erik, that's enough,” Charles says, glancing back and fourth between Erik and Emma. Erik is breathing too hard, blood pumping with fury-fueled adrenaline and Charles can feel his own begin to follow suit.

“That enough,” he says, louder this time. Erik keeps squeezing, harder and harder until cracks behind to form in Emma's body, the awful sound of crystal shattering slowly. But then, miraculously, Erik stops. He lets out a deep breath and meets Charles' eyes, just for a moment, before looking away.

“She's all yours,” Erik tells him. Charles is going to have to sort out exactly what happened later when they have the time.

“She won't be shifting into diamond form again, and if she does, just give her a gentle tap,” Erik tells him. The hint of a laugh in his voice is utterly contrived and Charles wishes he hadn't bothered.

He kneels on the floor before where Emma has returned to her human form and slumped down the wall.

“Are you okay?” he asks her. The thought “ _ you don't care _ ” slips through in reply.

“I know we're not friends or anything, but I didn't come here to let people get hurt,” Charles says, shrugging. He presses fingers to his temple and extends his power to read Emma properly.

“She saw him in at some club called The Caspartina, but it was over a month ago. Sorry, Erik. That's all there is,” Charles says at last. Erik doesn't feel happy at all, but his rage has dispersed a little and Charles gives him a little nudge that convinces him to let Emma go.

She stands and gives them both a look before striding away with a surprising amount of grace. At the door she stops, and glances back just for a moment. Charles feels the telepathic gesture to get his attention and looks right at her a moment before she tosses something small and silver at him. He catches it, and then she's gone.

The silence slips into the sound of several hundred people whispering all at once. Charles touches a hand to Erik's arm and looks around at the wreckage strewn around them. It's not much, just some broken bottle and bits of metal and wood. But the overwhelming hums of the minds in the crowd is making his head spin and it feel like a battlefield.

“Hey, Charles,” someone says very quietly to his left. Moira is looking at him from the edge of the crowd. “I think you should play. All these people are here to listen to music and now there's no band.”

So they do. The X-Men aren't the greatest band in the world, maybe they even suck, but that night they rock the Cerebro theater.

“They probably don't suck too bad. The levels were just horrible,” Scott Summers grumbles to his roommate on the way out the door.

“What did you think of the show?” some small time newspaper reporter is trying to ask people.

“It was okay,” most people say.

“I need some time to think about it.”

“The lead singer was kind of hot.”

“No comment,” a man in a clean suit and a red ascot says, waving off the reporter and making his way out the door into the early morning hours.

 

 _ Chapter 15b – Closure _

It's pouring outside once again and Charles is standing with Jean as she waits for a taxi. The little yellow car pulls up, Charles goes to put her suitcase in the truck for her, and they stand face to face.

“I guess I'll go home,” Jean says quietly.

“I'm sorry about everything,” Charles says with a sad smile.

“Me too,” Jean says, wiping rain from her eyes with the sleeve of an argyle sweater that's a little too big.

“That used to be mine, remember?” Charles says fondly.

“The sweater? I guess I stole it. Do you want it back?” She looks down at her arm with a little frown.

“No. As long as you're still using it,” Charles replies, shrugging. He doesn't mind if she keeps it.

There's an awkward silence in which they almost shake hands and then they almost hug and in the end they do nothing at all.

“Goodbye, Charles,” she says, opening the door of the taxi.

“Goodbye,” he says, shoving hands in his pockets as he watches the taxi drive away through the rain.

“I say good riddance,” Sean says, standing under his umbrella. Erik shoots him a murderous glare and Sean actually pays attention for once in his life and goes quiet.

Charles sighs deeply and goes to stand under Erik's umbrella.

“Let's go get lunch,” he says, leaning up to kiss Erik. Sean makes very loud gagging sounds in the background.

“So, four more and you'll officially be mine?” Charles says cheerfully as they walk along towards their favorite shady pizza place.

“Something like that.”


	10. Chapter 10

Charles Xavier Gets it Together

_ Chapter 16 – Summer Days _

They end up going to the beach for Anna's birthday. Logan volunteers to drive them out in his truck, but Charles refuses to choke to death on the fumes and convinces Sean to acquire alternate transportation. The alternate transportation turns out to be a beaten up Volkswagon bus in lime green. Charles it dubious at first and then he finds out that someone has removed the seats in the back and Sean has taken the initiative to buy a whole bunch of beanbag chairs and oversized pillows at the bargain mart. It's probably against the law and completely unsafe, but it looks pretty damn comfortable.

The whole trip thing started out when Anna invited Logan to go to the beach for her birthday, but then Charles had accidentally spilled the secret at band practice because he'd read it in Logan's mind and Alex had wanted to go. Charles didn't ask, but kept smiling hopefully and by the time Logan gave up and allowed them both, it would have been rude not to bring Hank along too because he was just sitting there listening. But then Charles had begged them to let him bring Erik and Sean had started pouting about being left out. So then there were two more. Moira ended coming along too, apparently because Hank asked her, and by that time the group had turned into a proper party.

Someone decides that the price of admission to the 'fun-mobile' is some kind of liquor. Even Moira shows up with a bottle of some posh wine that Charles strongly suspects she took from her parents.

Charles starts out driving like a responsible adult. But then they start accusing him of driving like an old man, and the next red light facilitates a Chinese fire drill in which Logan becomes the new driver, Alex the new passenger and Charles is tossed bodily into the back. They party all the way down and make the trip an hour faster than they should have done because Logan is a terrifying driver that holds up his middle claw to any policemen who so much as look at the van.

Unfortunately, Charles does not foresee a problem that he finds out about the next day when they all go swimming. Beach means ocean, and ocean means swimsuits, and swimsuits means Erik is wandering around shirtless with his stupidly perfect body and Charles can't stop sneaking looks. He also starts to get a little jealous of the interested looks random women on the beach keep casting at Erik as he wanders by.

Charles doesn't really consider himself handsome - charming, maybe, or just this side of average. It's enough to pick up woman in bars, but he feels that he pales a bit in comparison Erik. In fact, Charles possesses the second palest skin of the entire group. Sean, with his ginger complexion, definitely comes in first, at least until he turns red as a lobster from being out in the sun.

“Stop it. You're fine,” Erik says to him eventually as they stand ankle deep in the water and wait for someone to pass the ball their direction.

“Sorry?” Charles says, tipping his head curiously and watching as Erik wades off through the shallow water to retrieve a lost beach ball. He reaches his power out after Erik's retreating mind and discovers that Erik has been keeping a close eye on him as well, soft and pale through he may be. Charles has somehow missed this fact entirely and he can feel Erik's amusement curling back at him.

“No eye sex at my party,” Anna says, standing with hands on the hips of her candy-stripped bikini.

“We weren't doing anything,” Charles says, blinking at her and putting on his most innocent face.

“This isn't your party,” Alex pipes up from where he's building a sand sculpture in the shape of a naked woman.

“Yes it is. Also we're staying at my aunt's house,” she argues.

“Apparently, mine was last week so hers is still active because it's next week,” Logan growls. It's kind of terrifying to see the man in nothing but swim trunks. He's so hairy that Charles strongly suspects that his theory about Logan being born in a zoo is correct. Perhaps he's some kind of ape/man hybrid with extra mutant genes.

Then Charles get hit in the head with an errant volleyball served by the mostly naked beach volleyball teams down the way. Charles only narrowly prevents Erik from going to give them a piece of his mind and rubs at the sore spot on his head with an amused smile.

“They're just having fun,” he says, wincing a little.

“They're being irresponsible,” Erik argues. His protective instincts are flaring and Charles smiles a little at the feeling, even if he doesn't want Erik drawing any blood.

Later, when the sun has started sinking towards the horizon, Alex and Sean decide they want burgers from this little burger shack on the beach that they claim has the best fries and milkshakes known to mankind. So the whole group packs up and pulls on t-shirts, trooping up the wooden boardwalk to get their burgers.

“You might be the nicest person I've ever dated,” Erik tells Charles as he bites into a burger. They're all sitting on the various benches that line the boardwalk and munching on food as the sun turns the ocean orange. It's surprisingly peaceful, even with Sean complaining about his pink shoulders.

“That's kind of sad,” Charles laughs back. But the thing is, he realizes as he steals some of Erik's fries, Erik is absolutely serious. Charles feels modicum of shame for shrugging off one of the few nice things Erik has ever seen fit to actually voice outside the confines his own head or their bedroom.

“Enjoying my food?” Erik says, an amused smile on his lips.

“Absolutely,” Charles replies, stealing another fry before going back to his chocolate milkshake.

“Where have your evil exes been lately, anyway?” Charles asks after a while spent chewing in comfortable silence.

“Probably going to work, making money, doing reasonable adult things like most of us normal people.”

“You are anything but normal,” Charles says, pointedly ignoring the implications in the rest of that statement. He knows Erik can't really argue that point and actually believes he is, in fact, better than most. It might be ego, but it's ego based in fact as far as Charles is concerned, so he never calls him on it.

It's been about three weeks since the incident with Emma. After the first twenty-four hours spent convincing Erik not to go tearing off to Manhattan in search of Shaw, everything had gone pretty smoothly. Charles settled into the easy rhythm of his life and Erik's company.

“You said there were four left?” Charles asks, leaning back against the arm that Erik stretches around his shoulders.

“Something like that,” Erik replies absently. They sit and watch the sun set, Charles sighing happily and ignoring the annoyed hum of Logan's mind that keeps thinking things like “girly” and “stupid” and “it happens every day.”

That night they build a campfire on the beach and sit around singing while Logan plays his guitar and Alex taps something out on a plastic bucket. Charles has never heard Erik sing before, but they get going on a set of old Beatles classics and he joins in on a rendition of Hey Jude and carries on through Eleanor Rigby and Love Me Do in a rich baritone that Charles quite likes. He quite likes almost everything about Erik, really, so his opinion on the subject may or may not be biased.

Anna announces that she hates Why Don't We Do It In the Road, so Charles and Logan launch into a loud and obnoxious version of that in which they make no attempt whatsoever to sing in tune.

“I love every single song they ever did,” Moira announces, giggling furiously. Charles rolls his eyes and smiles because he knows that the only album she's ever heard is '1' and while it does cover a lot of classics, it's not even close to a discography. She's probably had a few too many drinks by now.

“Should we be letting her drink beer?” Sean says, making her blush brightly and looks down at her lap.

“In the town where I was born, there lived a man who sailed the seas,” Charles sings out. He's a bit drunk by then too and ends up wobbling pretty badly. But Logan picks it up anyway and pretty soon they're back to singing and poor Moira is spared the scrutiny of a bunch of twenty-somethings who probably shouldn't be allowing a seventeen-year-old to drink to begin with.

 

 ** AT ANNA'S AUNT'S HOUSE – Late **

Charles is sprawled across the couch, head in Erik's lap, and limbs flung haphazardly in all directions. None of the others are much better off, even Erik who generally holds his liquor like a champ.

“Where'd Moira and Alex go?” Charles slurs softly, casting around with his mind.

“Dunno,” someone else says. Charles isn't sure who. He keeps looking and finds them in one of the upstairs bedrooms. They're making out and Alex is feeling up her boobs and it's just wrong on so, so many levels that Charles presses his face to Erik's stomach and makes gagging noises. Sometimes he wishes he could use his powers on himself and just forget things like that.

“Throw up on me and I'll murder you,” Erik says, pushing him away mercilessly. But when Charles does actually run to throw up later that night, Erik sits next to him in the bathroom and rubs little soothing circles into his back until he's done and utterly wrung out.

 

 ** LET US NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN – Please, dear God. **

The one responsible habit that Charles has is that he buys all of the groceries for both Sean and himself. He's good at paying but bad at choosing, so Sean usually comes with him. It just one of those things they do together.

“Ah, I forgot to get eggs when we were in that section,” Charles says mournfully.

“Got them,” Sean says absently, picking out what kind of cereal he wants.

“And cheese!” Charles sighs, five minute later.

“Got that too,” Sean says.

“The garlic one?”

“Both,” Sean says, laughing a little as he drops three loaves of bread into the cart. Between toast and sandwiches, they go through a lot of bread. Charles smiles at him and Sean knows that it's his version of a thank you.

They check out and spend a few minutes trading bags to get the perfect weight in each hand for the walk home. Charles complains that he always forgets to bring their environmentally friendly, reusable bags and Sean argues that they recycle the plastic ones anyway by using them as trash bags.

“So it's August,” Sean says as they walk.

“Yes?” Charles says slowly. He's pretty sure this isn't a trick question.

“Our lease is up at the end of this month,” Sean says, shrugging.

“Don't ask me to do that,” Charles says, pulling the rest of the thought from Sean's mind before he can say it. Sean wants him to decide if they're going to stay for another year or not.

“Well I'm asking. You have to decide what you want to do, Charles,” Sean tells him. He's eating one of the cookies they just bought, though how he got it out of the bag with two full hands is a mystery. 

Charles mopes about it on the way hope and then lets it slip from his mind as they put away the groceries and Sean finds out that mice have gotten into his bag of rice. It's not the first time it's happened.

“Put your pants on,” Charles sighs, leaning against the counter.

“It's hot, I'm hot, might as well enjoy it,” Sean says, laughing as he switches on the blender. Whatever Charles says next is drowned out by the sound, but it does produce ice cold margaritas, so Charles isn't really complaining.

“So how are you and Erik doing?” Sean says, handing him a glass.

“Uh, we're doing pretty well,” Charles says, taking his drink and sipping at it.

“Have you said the L-word yet?” Sean says as he salts the rim of his glass.

“Lesbians?” Charles says, laughing. He does know what Sean means, he's not that dense, but it's still fun to mess with him.

“No, you idiot,” Sean laughs shoving him so hard he almost spills his drink.

“Is it important? I mean it's kind if obvious,” Charles says eventually.

“I don't know, but your mom says it to me all the time,” Sean tells him mock-seriously. Charles' mother is dead, so the joke is in pretty bad taste, but he and Sean have the kind of weird friendship where Sean can get away with stuff like that.

“I'll be in the bathroom crying if you need me,” Charles deadpans, wandering off.

“You know I didn't mean it, baby,” Sean calls after him.

 

 ** MOVING DAY: ALEX SUMMERS **

“I know we volunteered to help, but it has to be over ninety out here,” Charles complains. He's already sweating in his thin t-shirt and they only just arrived.

“Suck it up,” Logan growls, carrying a towering stack of boxes into the house. It turns out Alex is moving in with his brother Scott and Allison. Alex doesn't like the idea of living with his older brother, but Alex absolutely hated the people he lived with before and this is just a convenient place to sleep until he can find somewhere better that he can actually afford. Charles lets Alex load him up with boxes out of the back of Logan's truck and shuffles into the blissfully cool house.

Logan doesn't remember which room is Alex's when he gets to the landing, and ends up standing around waiting for Charles to catch up and show him. While he's there, he nudges a partially closed door open with his foot and is surprised to find Scott sitting in the middle of a mass of equipment.

“You have a home recording studio?” he asks gruffly. Scott pulls off a set of big headphones and scowls at him.

“Can I help you?” Scott says imperiously.

“You can record our album, asshole,” Logan growls. Scott stares back, decides they share a bond of filthy mouths and irreverence, and shrugs his consent.

 

 ** ERIK'S HOUSE – Charles brought giant sandwiches from the place downtown **

“You know, it's kind of funny. I've been in your head all these times but I still don't know that much about you,” Charles says, inspecting his sandwich to plan his next angle of attack.

“Like what?” Erik asks.

“Like how old you are or what your favorite foods are. You know, little things,” Charles says, shrugging.

“I'm 25,” Erik says easily. “I don't really have favorite foods.”

“Do you like cars? Comic books? Video games?” Charles lists, trying to think of more as he goes.

“Enough, not really, they're okay,” Erik shoots back.

“What do you like?”

“You.”

“What else?” Charles says, smiling.

“I like to travel,” Erik says after a thoughtful pause.

“Where?” Charles says.

“Everywhere. I've been all over Europe,” Erik tells him.

“I didn't know a delivery boy salary was enough for that kind of travel,” Charles says easily. He can't see Erik as the low-budget, hostel-staying, hitchhiking type of traveler. Erik blinks at him and Charles feels confusion in Erik's mind. It's definitely not what he was expecting.

“I just have a bit of money in the bank,” Erik says slowly. But Charles can tell it's just a normal sounding excuse that Erik made up on the spot. A bit of probing later and Charles realizes that Erik honestly has no idea where the money came from. It's like the memory is somehow missing or incomplete. Charles can feel Erik shying away from the idea, casting about for something else easy to latch onto.

“I always liked Europe. Should've seen more when I was there,” Charles tells him, trying to fill up the confused silence with some of his normal, eager chatter. Fortunately, it works.

“When were you there?” Erik says after a beat, and just like that they're safe again. This is solid ground.

“I went to Oxford for school, well, grad-school anyway,” Charles says, smiling.

“Where before that?”

“Harvard.”

“You are a little genius, aren't you?” Erik chuckles gently. “That or just exorbitantly rich.”

“Uh, Erik? Let's go for a walk,” Charles says quietly, standing up. Erik agrees, though Charles can feel his confusion leaking out. So they clean up the food and store the leftovers in the fridge before stepping out Erik's little white front door. He lets Charles lead the way.

It's a long walk to Charles' childhood home, but he decides that he wants to go on foot instead of finding a bus. It's not really that he wants to delay it because he does actually want to show Erik this part of his life. But he could use a little time to prepare himself. 

They pass through the iron gates at the end of the long gravel drive, overgrown with weeds, and Charles feels Erik's curiosity grow with every step they take.

“Honestly, Charles. I don't know how you survived, living in such hardship,” Erik says, laughter in his voice. The words make Charles' heart drop a little, but when he reaches out to Erik he doesn't feel even a hint of resentment. He remembers the last time he brought someone here, Moira, and is struck by the difference. He doesn't mind being here this time, not with Erik.

“Lets go inside,” Charles says quietly, reaching for his keys as he makes his way up the path. The gardens on each side are wild from lack of care and eating up the sidewalk. But somehow there are still flowers blooming, even in the heat of summer.

Erik follows him in silence and watches as Charles pushes open the double front doors, spreading light across the floorboards and stirring up a great flurry of dust.

“How long has it been?” Erik says softly.

“I was fourteen,” Charles replies. He goes inside, Erik a step behind him and hesitates in the large front hall for a moment before climbing the stairs towards his old room on the second story. The furniture looms like ghosts in the half-light, all covered in white sheets to protect it from dust and time. Charles pulls the sheet from his bed as Erik flicks the curtains apart on the wide bay window that looks out to the west. He doesn't even remember the curtain rings being metal.

It's odd, Charles thinks, to be sitting here on this bed shoulder to shoulder with Erik. It's all so much smaller than he remembers, but he supposes that is because he's grown up since then. This room belongs to a child and Charles isn't a child anymore.

Erik doesn't ask any questions, doesn't even seem to be waiting for answers, but as they sit there Charles begins, in stop and starts, to tell him anyway. He tells Erik about his father's death and about the strange man that had become his step father too soon after. He tells him about his mother and about her drinking and about the hand his step father had in the separate deaths of each of his parents. He even tips his head and shows Erik the tiny scar at the base of his skull where his step father had pushed him too hard once and he'd fallen on the desk on the study. Unexpectedly, Erik leans over and presses his lips to the mark and Charles loves him so much in that moment he feels that he might burst with it.

By the time Charles finishes pouring half his heart out, it's late evening and the house is growing dark. They leave before they get stuck there and end up stumbling their way out of the dusty old mansion by touch alone. Charles locks up behind them and then they're strolling down the weed-covered driveway to the main road, shoulders bumping because they're too close together.

“Thank you,” Erik tells him. Charles doesn't even need to use his powers to know why.


	11. Chapter 11

_  
  
Chapter 17 – Hot Stuff   
  
_

Charles wakes up to the sound of the phone ringing.

“Dude, get out of bed right now,” Sean says when he answers it.

“Why?” Charles groans weakly. He feels like death.

“There's a heat wave warning in affect. I'm ordering you to get out of our furnace-like apartment and go somewhere air conditioned lest you die,” Sean tells him. Charles looks down at his sweat-covered body and thinks that maybe Sean has a point.

Charles calls Erik who informs him that he is as work like a responsible adult and can't help. So Charles is left to sulk around town and try not to look like a sweaty, well dressed prostitute. He's looking up at the sign for their normal pizza place trying to decide if he's actually hungry or just bored when he sees a very expensive convertible slide into the reflection in the windows and someone calls his name.

“Hey Charlie,” Tony croons. Charles turns around, caught between surprise and laughter and says, “don't call me that, asshole.” It's something of a traditional greeting for them so he knows Tony won't take it personally, not that he takes very many things personally to begin with.

Charles ends up getting in the passenger side and leans over to give Tony a hug before he drives off and runs the stop sign in his ridiculously expensive car with a custom license place that reads 'Stark 9.'

[         
_  
Tony Stark      
_   
]   
[    
_  
Genius. Famous.    
_   
]   
[   
_  
Charles' old friend   
_   
.]

Tony immediately launches into an excited lecture on all the things he's been doing lately. He's always had an ego the size of a small planet, so it's not surprising that he forgets to ask Charles how he's doing for almost an hour. The two of them had met in the beginning because they were the two youngest people on campus and they had kept up the friendship because they'd realized what a blessing it was to have a friend that could actually keep up intellectually, even if their fields of study were vastly different. Tony like big things that went boom and mechanics that he could work on with his hands while Charles liked the things he could never touch: genetics, tiny molecular chains and the inside of the human mind.

They end up at some little coffee shop with Tony tucked into a corner wearing big, face obscuring sunglasses. He explains the situation by saying that he's been on the cover of some magazines lately and people keep recognizing him when he goes out. To someone who knows Tony, and Charles is pretty sure he does, this is obviously a lie of the most massive degree. Tony absolutely loves attention.

“Who are you really hiding from?” Charles sighs, leaning forward to support his chin on his hands.

“Pepper,” Tony whispers conspiratorially. Charles knows from rumor, if nothing else, that Pepper Potts is Tony's famous assistant and possibly the only person who keeps him from utterly ruining himself.

Eventually, Charles manages to tell Tony about Erik and about his sort of shitty band. He also convinces Tony to come to practice with him, even though Tony wants to go out and celebrate their reunion at the biggest, brightest, most expensive club he can find. 

When they arrive at Hank's, the front room is empty and the house is quiet.

“Anyone home?” Charles calls out.

“Nobody's here,” Hank calls back.

“What about practice?” Charles yells up the stairs. 

“I don't know, sorry Charles,” Hank replies, followed by muffled swearing and the tinkle of breaking glass.

So Charles drags Tony along to Alex's house and goes looking for him instead.

“He's not here,” Logan yells from Scott's room.

“What about practice?” Charles says, watching Logan roll out onto the landing in a desk chair.

“Scott agreed to help us record an album. Alex went to the The Atomic. Who's your friend?” It's more questions in a row than Charles is used to from Logan and it throws him off a bit.

“Uh, this is Tony,” Charles says slowly. “You're just hanging out here with Scott?”

“Tell him we're making magic,” Scott says from inside the room.

“You heard the man,” Logan shrugs.

So Tony gets dragged along to The Atomic to meet everyone else for drinks. It's kind of like what he wanted in the first place, except that The Atomic sucks, and the smug expression on his face only makes Charles roll his eyes.

Tony rolls in and starts pouring on the charm right off the bat. Charles is pretty sure that Alex just about falls out of his seat when he hears the words “I'm Tony Stark,” but he's the only one. The girls don't seem to know who Tony is, specifically, but they're more than willing to find out. So Tony settles into the booth and spends the next several minutes charming the women at the table and chatting cars with Alex who has a fairly extensive knowledge of the subject in his own right. Charles sits and smiles pleasantly, sinking into the noise of it, more or less ignoring the actual words being spoken until Erik appears suddenly as his elbow.

“I got your message,” Erik says, smiling a little at Charles and Charles alone.

“You must be Erik!” Tony grins, waving. Erik just raises his eyebrows and slides into the booth next to Charles. He sits just enough closer than usual that Charles can't tell if it's on purpose or just a mistake, but he also settles a possessive hand on Charles' knee under the table that provides evidence for the former.

“So who are you supposed to be?” Erik asks, a bit ruder than normal. Charles knocks knees with him under the table and gives him an admonishing little mental nudge.

“Tony Stark. Charles and I went to school together at Harvard,” Tony grins, utterly unperturbed by Erik's moody show.

“I saw you on the cover of that magazine last month!” Anna announces suddenly in realization and distracts them both from what promised to be a very uncomfortable staring contest.

“Of course you did. Everyone saw it,” Tony says proudly and then starts telling some ridiculous story about the interviewer trying to take her shirt off in the middle of the interview which may or may not be true.

“So, Tony, why are you out here?” Charles asks later in an attempt to make pleasant conversation because he knows that Erik won't and the girls are running out of topics.

“Why did I leave my California beaches, you mean? There's a project I'm working on around here and I might as well visit my ol' dad while I'm at it,” Tony tells him. Howard Stark, like Tony, is a certified genius, but after passing his company on to his son, Howard had retired to his penthouse Manhattan apartment and a position on the boards of several posh, east coast schools.

The hours slip by unnoticed until eventually it's 2am and the bar kicks them out. Tony offers to give Charles a lift home, but Erik pulls him close and says that they're going to walk. Charles sighs tolerantly and tells Tony that he probably shouldn't be driving anyway given his current state. Tony, of course, ignores him utterly and disappears into the night with the sound of his beautiful engine.

“He's not really that bad,” Charles hums into Erik's shoulder.

“He's pretty bad,” Erik replies, pulling Charles towards home and bed.

 

 _  
Chapter 18 – Getting It Together   
_

Charles gets up feeling oddly determined to get something done today. Maybe it's because of all the success Tony has been going on about or the little jibes Erik keeps making about his lack of job, but Charles puts on a slightly nicer shirt than usual and heads out the door some time before noon.

“Hey, Raven,” Charles says to his sister as his steps over the threshold of Mendel's Coffee.

“Come to mooch free drinks as usual?” he chirps, smiling at him and moving to the machine that makes these delicious frozen frappe things he likes.

“Well it isn't like I'm going to turn it down,” Charles laughs, leaning against the counter and chatting with her about her work and the newest boy she's dating.

“By the way, are they hiring here?” Charles says, trying to be casual as he tests his drink. Raven has given him extra whipped cream and little chocolate and coconut flakes. She shoots an incredulous look at him and tells him to get away from the machines before he breaks something simply by touching it.

Charles moves on, sipping at his coffee drink as he strolls down to the video store where Alex works. It's not the same one as before which had, as Alex predicted, closed. But it's in the same location because apparently some other idiot thought they could do a better job of running it than the last guy.

“Hi Alex,” Charles says, leaning against the counter.

“What do you want. You never come in here unless you need something,” Alex snarks.

“Uh, are you guys hiring?” Charles says, cutting right to the chase. Alex just starts laughing loudly and doesn't stop until Charles escapes back out the door.

Eventually, Charles goes home feeling utterly defeated and flops into the armchair. Sean comes home and bugs him until he explain why he's moping around.

“You're qualified to work in a lab, write papers that make people's brains hurt, or lecture kids paying 70 grand a year to party, but not much else,” Sean tells him, giving him a little pat on top of the head.

“I should just give up,” Charles groans in despair.

“Or apply to a bunch of schools for a teaching position,” Sean shrugs. It isn't actually a terrible idea.

“I guess I could,” Charles says slowly, already trying to figure out which schools are close enough that he doesn't have to move.

“If your life had a face, I would punch it in the balls, just so you know,” Sean says casually, going to warm up some leftover Chinese food.

 

 **AND SO**

It's so hot the next day that Erik actually wears a t-shirt and that in itself is so impressive is sends Charles into stunned silence for a few minutes before Erik can shake him out of it.

“Clothes. Change. I do it often,” he says slowly.

“But I can see your arms and it's not because you're naked,” Charles tells him, staring at the arms in question as though they might not be real.

They go to Hank's to pick up some stuff with Logan, and Hank stands around asking why they never practice anymore. Charles knows that Hank secretly misses them even if he claims he's getting a lot more work done this way anyway.

“We're recording,” Logan says importantly. They all roll their eyes, but they go over to where Alex and Scott live and sit around watching Logan try to record parts of a song and bicker with Scott about levels for a few hours.

“This is stupid,” Erik says at last, voicing the thought that Charles and Anna have been thinking for some time now.

“Let's go to The Atomic,” Anna says, standing up with Charles and Erik right behind her. Logan stays behind with Scott, apparently because he's having this weird thing called 'fun.'

 

 **THE ATOMIC – Again**

“Are we coming here every night now?” Erik asks, sliding into the booth next to Charles and praying that the answer is no. The food and service are pretty poor, not to mention it's pretty awful all around. He's surprised no one has gotten any diseases from the bathroom yet.

“It's just better than recording,” Anna sighs.

“It's absolutely disgusting,” Erik says, looking around.

“Or just typically crappy?” Charles says hopefully.

“No, Charles, it's disgusting,” everyone says at once. Why they even bother is a mystery.

Somehow, Tony shows up five minutes later and announces that both he and the party have arrived. It's a stupid thing to say, Charles thinks, but it's actually kind of true most of the time. It certainly cheers up their night when Tony starts telling them about this one time that a leopard had accidentally been released into his bedroom and, he says, it's not even a euphemism. Then he launches into this story about how he programed a personality to run his house, but it got really boring so he spent a month working out how to program an A.I. to understand and correctly use sarcasm just so he could snark at it. Eventually Tony pauses to take a breath and says, “fuck I need a cigarette” as he stands to go outside.

“I'll join you,” Erik says, standing and putting Charles instantly on guard.

“You don't smoke,” he says.

“Special occasions,” Erik says, casting a glance at him as he follows Tony out the door.

“Oh fuck,” Charles sighs, slumping back after they leave,“they're going to talk about me.”

“Your boyfriend and your ex? No shit, Sherlock,” Alex says through a mouth full of nachos.

“He's not my ex,” he says quickly. It's true that Tony and he have never once dated, but Charles can't promise that there's never been any drunken kissing or fumbling. It's not even that which makes him nervous. Tony knows a whole hell of a lot about Charles, maybe more than anyone, Raven included, and it's that which makes him dangerous.

 

 **OUTSIDE**

Tony doesn't even try to offer Erik one of his cigarettes. He's smarter than that.

“Do I get the 'stay away from my boyfriend' talk now? Or can we skip it?” Tony says. He's a whole lot more serious than he was a moment ago. It's an interesting change.

“As long as you're aware I have one prepared,” Erik shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Great. I hate those and I want to interrogate you instead,” Tony says, lighting his cigarette with a lighter that looks high-tech and definitely isn't on the market yet.

“Bit rich, you being protective of him,” Erik scowls. He's the boyfriend. He's supposed to be the protective one, not some genius party boy who lives on the other side of the country.

“It's Charles,” Tony says like that explains it, and in a way, it does.

“How long have you known him?” Erik asks.

“College, but you know we're both geniuses, so we were sixteen at the time,” Tony answers easily. It sounds like he's implying that he knows every last thing about Charles, and it's not an implication Erik likes. But an eye for an eye, it's Tony's turn to ask.

“How much has he told you about his past?”

“He took me to his house and told me about his parents and Kurt,” Erik says simply. There's so much baggage attached to terms like “mother” and “father” for Charles that he doesn't need to say more.

“How much about Kurt?” Tony says, eying him up and down.

“He showed me a scar on his head,” Erik shrugs. There's a lot he can extrapolate from such a simple thing and every single bit of it makes him want to snap the neck of the man responsible. He has half a mind to ask Tony if he's invited a time machine yet just for that purpose. Tony would probably come with him and help.

“Fuck,” Tony breathes, looking out at the street. “He actually does love you.”

It's not that Erik has ever really doubted it, really. But the actual revelation, spoken into plain air like that, is a bit startling all the same. Tony must catch something on his face because he smiles a little and says, “I guess it's kind of stupid to ask if you're just in it for his money, isn't it?”

“I didn't even know about that until recently. He lives like a loser,” Erik says, looking away from the knowing smirk that has planted itself firmly on Tony's lips.

“Well you live like kind of a dick, so fair is fair,” Tony tells him. It pulls a surprised bark of a laughter from Erik's chest.

“I can't be anywhere near as bad at you,” he tells him.

“That's probably true,” Tony says without an ounce of shame.

They go back inside and Tony slides into the booth next to Charles, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and laughing like he'd never left. The gesture has Erik shooting murderous daggers at him as he takes Tony's old place across the table. Charles keeps trying to push little bits of calm into his head and he keeps rejecting them until Charles makes a sound that says “you're hopeless” and turns away to listen to a story about yet another time Tony destroyed his house in the name of science.

They've made a peace of sorts, but it doesn't stop Tony being all hands all the time and touching Charles up and down every chance he gets. He fluffs his hair, leans on him, strokes, pokes, pats and it's very slowly driving Erik insane. Charles has kicked him under the table twice to no avail. Erik probably has the bruises to prove it.

The straw that breaks the camel's back comes when Tony turns to Charles and says, “how about a threesome? Erik seems like he'd have a big-”

Erik pushes Alex out of his side of the booth and gets up.

“We're going home,” he says, looking right at Charles. Tony is laughing like a hyena, probably from too many drinks, and Charles looks between him and Erik before sighing gently and extracting himself from under Tony's arm.

“Please take a cab home,” he begs Tony, then looks around at everyone else and says “please don't let him drive” before Erik pulls him out the door.

“Yours or mine?” Charles says, smiling at him in a way that Erik suspects he might also use on a petulant child.

“Doesn't matter,” Erik says, which usually means his because his house is nicer and doesn't contain a gay roommate who wanders around in his underwear.

Erik takes him home that night and binds his wrists to the metal headboard. He fucks Charles hard and fast and mutters a filthy, possessive stream of "mine" and "no one else" against his ear as he does so. Charles is completely surprised to find that he likes it; he's pretty sure he's never been so painfully turned on in his life.

 

 **SLEEP – Several hours later.**

Erik has this recurring nightmare that he hasn't had since he started sleeping with Charles. But that night, for some reason, he has it again.

In the dream, Erik lives in a glass box suspended in a dark room. Either there are no walls beyond those of his prison, or they're so far away that he simply can't see them. But the thing that makes it terrible is that nowhere in the dream can he feel the cold, comfortable hum of metal. His chairs, bed, table, everything is made of plastic or glass. Even the chess set that sits in the center of his table is glass, always stuck in the results of a game in which black, Erik, has lost to some mysterious other player. It makes him feel empty, like half a person, and sometimes he wonders if this is what normal people feel like all the time.

The beginning of the dream is always the same: Erik opens his eyes in the middle of a perfect white bed and stares through the ceiling at the darkness that feels as through it's pulling his soul from his chest. Slowly, he rises, makes a circle around the tiny room, picking up items after item just to feel the shape of things his mind can't sense. He runs fingers under the stream of water in the tap and can't quite tell the temperature of it.

“What is this?” someone asks behind him and Erik startles and whips around to find Charles sitting in one of the chairs at his table, hands in his lap. There's never been another person in his dream before. Erik notes that he's sitting behind the white pieces on the chess board and has the strangest sensation that the phantom player has always been Charles. But no, Erik thinks, that's ridiculous. He's had this dream for as long as he can remember and Charles is as new to him as he is the Charles. They're nothing like old friends.

“My friend,” Charles says softly, turning too blue eyes on him that seem over-saturated in the bland whites and transparencies of the dream world. Erik goes to reply, but before the words can pass his lips, Charles is holding out his hand and Erik reaches him in a single stride across the little room. He drops to his knees beside the chair as Charles strokes fingers across his brow and into his hair.

“It's okay,” Charles whispers. Erik doesn't ask what he's talking about, just leans his head against Charles' thigh and lets Charles push gentle hands through his hair and down along his neck for minutes that stretch into eternity.

Erik snaps awake in the darkness of his real bedroom and finds Charles already watching him, face a few inches from his own. He can't feel him, but he knows Charles is still deep inside his head.

“Yes,” Charles says, closing the space between them to kiss him sweetly.

“There's no metal,” Charles tells him as they lay there. Erik thinks that's obvious and Charles smiles almost imperceptibly as he reads the thought.

“It frightens you because you fear being utterly powerless,” Charles says. Erik nods in reply, sighing gently.

“Are you going to lay there and state the obvious all night, Charles?”

“You hate yourself for not being able to save your mother,” Charles whispers, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead as Erik's mind flares momentarily with regret, anger and loathing. He'd promised himself then never to be powerless again.

“Get out of my head, Charles,” Erik mutters darkly.

“You were a child,” Charles says, ignoring him.

“I was old enough,” Erik hisses back.

“It's not your fault,” he says with absolute conviction, pulling Erik close. It's the first time anyone has ever said that to him and it sounds like a benediction. Charles can feel the little shuddering sobs that Erik is struggling desperately to contain as he presses close and buries his face in Charles's shoulder. Erik doesn't believe it, not just like that, but it's a start.

There are only fragments of broken memory available to Charles- a car, the terror of a child, the sound of tearing metal. Charles feels instinctively as though he should shy away, but pushes forward anyway for Erik's sake and finds a memory that's utterly broken in a way Charles has never seen in all the minds he's visited. It scares him that it can exist this way at all, in sharp broken fragments, and it's that moment that Charles begins to understand something.

 

 **THE NEXT MORNING**

Charles and Erik stay home the next day. Charles makes breakfast and then they curl up on the couch to watch a James Bond marathon on TV. He leans back against Erik's chest and listening to the steady hum of Erik's mind complaining about how ridiculous some of the sequences are and how much better the plan would have worked if Bond had done something more sensible. It comfortable and it almost lets Charles forget about all the questions he has, but then Erik gets bored with the movies and decides he want to play chess instead and it's downhill from there. When they play chess, Charles watches Erik almost as much as he watches the board and all the extra time he has to think just makes him come up with another thousand questions he wants to ask.

“Charles,” Erik says, annoyed, as he stares at the board.

“Sorry,” Charles mutters. But it's not like he can just stop. Eventually Erik sighs and looks right at him.

“What do you want?”

“I, uh, sorry, I just keep thinking about last night,” he admits, fumbling for the words as Erik fixes him with a proper glare.

“Why?” When Erik starts being short with him, it usually means trouble.

“It's just that this name keeps popping up, but I don't really understand how it all fits together,” Charles says slowly.

“Why don't you just look?” Erik says sharply. Charles is very tempted to erase this conversation from his head entirely, but he pushes on in spite of himself. Erik deserves more respect than that.

“Because I want you to trust me enough to tell me,” Charles says, and just like that Erik tenses up and his mind withdraws, going dark and defensive. Charles despises the feeling of it.

“Sebastian Shaw is a bastard and I am going to murder him.” It's deadly quiet and deadly serious. Charles flinches as though Erik had yelled it.

“I don't understand,” Charles replies, moving his knight three spaces forward and one to the right. He feels a burst of white-hot anger and pulls his hand back, expecting Erik to overturn the board entirely. Except that somehow, Erik controls himself and takes Charles' knight with a pawn instead.

“Shaw killed my parents,” Erik says in a voice so calm it sends shivers down his spine.

“What else?” Charles says, pushing just that much harder and praying that Erik won't break. He moves his rook and takes Erik's pawn.

“That's it,” Erik says, shifting his queen away from danger.

“No it's not,” Charles says and feels rather than sees the way Erik is caught off balance. It's not like Charles to be so direct, Erik thinks. He never speaks like that. He shies away from important things and laughs his way out of everything.

Erik opens his mouth to continue and finds the words stuck in his throat. He doesn't know. It's as simple as that. He gasps in surprise and stares at Charles, fingers curled too-tight around the shape of the queen he'd been about to move.

“Killing Shaw will not bring you peace,” Charles says quietly, looking directly at him for the first time since this conversation began.

“Peace was never an option,” he chokes out, pushing the piece down on the board with a sharp click of wood on wood.


	12. Chapter 12

 

 _  
Chapter 19 – There Comes a Time   
_

The moment that he wins the game, Charles gets up and leaves. Erik is angry with him, probably rightfully so, but more than anything Charles can feel a need to be alone.

He goes over and does some recording with Logan and Scott that afternoon. After a few tries, Charles hears Scott begin to consider redoing all his parts after he leaves. He laughs it off and says, “I don't think I'm doing that well right now” before setting the instrument down and wandering off across the hall to find Alex in his room.

He sits on Alex's bed and calls Erik to see if he wants to go to The Atomic again that night. It takes three tries before a tired sounding Erik picks up the phone and tells Charles that he's exhausted, going to bed at something like eight and wants to be left alone. Charles apologizes and hangs up. He knows that he probably shouldn't even have called.

A few of them go out anyway, but it ends up being kind of lame, so Charles leaves early and heads home. He and Erik hadn't really gotten that much sleep the night before, what with one thing and another, and he's starting to think that an early bedtime isn't such a terrible idea after all.

 

 **THE APARTMENT**

“Shit,” Charles barks in surprise, stumbling back outside with a hand over his eyes. He'd opened the door and flipped on the light expecting to see what he normally did: a slightly messy, dim little apartment. But instead he'd gotten an eyeful of some man he didn't know hilt deep in a very pleased looking Sean.

“Sorry, Charles,” Sean says, creeping out the door with their blanket wrapped around his body a few minutes later.

“Who is that and do I want to know?” Charles groans.

“Warren. You probably saw his junk and I'm sorry for that,” Sean says, patting his shoulder.

“Saw a lot more than that. Oh god, I don't think I can unsee it now,” Charles whines, rubbing at his eyes like it will help.

“Sorry. Do you think you can stay with Erik tonight?” Sean asks pleadingly.

“Sure, fine,” Charles agrees and only realizes once Sean has gone back inside and closed the door that Erik had said he didn't want to be disturbed. Charles moans in self pity and wanders down the street trying to figure out how annoyed Erik will be if he shows up anyway and sneaks into bed.

Charles is halfway to Erik's house when he quite literally runs into Tony being thrown out of some restaurant. Tony greets him warmly as soon as he figures out exactly who it is he's crashed into, but he doesn't even try to apologize.

“Why this time?” Charles asks, gesturing vaguely at the doorway Tony just fell out of.

“I don't think the manager liked finding me with one of the waitresses in a bathroom stall,” Tony says, grinning brightly. Charles slips into his head to find out how many drinks he's had and finds that the number is surprisingly low.

“Why are you wandering around out here alone? Cute kid like you will snapped right up,” Tony laughs.

“Roommate has someone over,” Charles sighs, leaning into the arm that Tony drapes across his shoulders.

“Boyfriend a no-go?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Charles replies without explaining. He's glad Tony doesn't push it.

“I guess you'll have to sleep with me,” Tony says and receives a weak punch in the arm.

“As long as the sleeping is the key word here.” Charles smiles slightly.

“On my honor,” Tony says, holding his free hand over his heart.

They end up at Tony's ridiculously expensive hotel room and Tony offers him a t-shirt and some clean underwear to sleep in. Charles makes a joke about the diseases he's probably going to get from the underwear and Tony smiles at him affectionately. It's this secret that only Charles knows that sometimes Tony actually does calm the fuck down when he's in his own space and doesn't feel like he has anyone to impress.

“It's weird, staying in a hotel in my own town,” Charles says as he returns from the bathroom. Tony has switched to a t-shirt and soft track pants and Charles is stopped dead by the white-blue ringing glowing through the fabric on his chest.

“What's that?” Charles says, pointing. Tony looks down and then back at Charles with an odd expression.

“A lot of shit has happened since I last saw you,” Tony says, shrugging. But he pulls the shirt off over his head and lets Charles sit down next to him and look at it more closely.

“It's keeping you alive?” Charles says, brushing up against his friend's mind.

“There's tiny shrapnel just above my heart. The electromagnet keeps it out and the reactor powers the magnet, among other things” Tony explains without so much as skipping a beat. Like Erik, he always catches up easily when Charles replies to ideas he hasn't even voiced yet.

Charles reaches out to touch the reactor and finds that it's the same temperature as Tony's skin, not cold or burning hot like he expected.

“It seems like there's a big story you haven't told us in one of your drunken rants,” Charles says lightly, smiling when Tony laughs.

“Do you want to see?” Tony asks him, gesturing at his head.

“No, tell me.” This is one of those rare times when he wants to hear a story told in words. He feels like starting without knowing the end just this once.

They lay back on each side of the giant bed and Tony starts telling his tale. It's always a little annoying because he spends whole minutes discussing the cars and the woman and then suddenly his story-self is in an entirely different place and he hasn't explained why or how he got there. But Charles is used to it and manages, somehow, to keep up.

“You're insane, absolutely bat-shit insane,” Charles tells him when he finishes. He lets Tony laugh himself silly and doesn't even complain when he rolls onto his stomach and throws an arm over Charles' leg where he's propped up against the headboard.

“What happened to us back then?” Tony mumbles against the sheets after a long silence.

“I don't know,” Charles says quietly.

“We were probably too busy trying to be cool and smart and really we didn't know shit.”

“I think you might be right.”

“And then my dad wanted me to take over,” Tony says at the exact same time as Charles says, “and then I went to England.”

“Sometimes I wish you'd asked me if I liked you.” It's the most honest Tony has been in a long time.

“Well, did you?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” he says, turning his head away from Charles.

“You were too wild for me. You had a different person in your bed every week, sometimes two at a time” Charles tells him, dragging fingers over the fabric on Tony's shoulder just to feel the warmth under the cotton.

“I would've straightened up for you,” Tony admits, making Charles' hand still. He's not an idiot. He knows that it means when Tony Stark says he'd give up sleeping with people left and right for you.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Charles asks at last.

“I'm sorry. You have Erik now,” Tony mutters. “He's actually kind of a decent guy.”

“Yeah, kind of. Hey, Tony?” Charles asks, pulling on his body until he rolls over onto his back. Tony goes willingly and look up at him in the dim light filtering in from outside. They've completely neglected to turn on lights.

“I'm sorry too,” Charles says, leaning down and pressing his lips to Tony's. It's sweet and brief, and to his surprise, Tony returns it just like that without asking for more with teeth or tongue.

“That might be the sweetest rejection I've ever had,” Tony says quietly and Charles can't help but start laughing in that charming way he has from where he's still leaning over and looking at his friend upside down.

“You always were the better man,” Tony says once they're both straightened out and under the covers.

“That's not true,” Charles mumbles just before he falls asleep. To his credit, Tony only tries to cuddle him once and is promptly shoved back to the other side of the bed. It's positively chaste of him.

 

 **THE NEXT MORNING**

Charles wakes up with a start when Tony yells at him from the other room to come and get breakfast. He wanders out rubbing his eyes and finds that Tony has ordered an extravagant room service spread.

“You shouldn't have,” Charles says sleepily as he slides into one of the high chairs at the little breakfast bar and starts in on a stack of pancakes.

“It's not wining and dining if I don't dine you,” Tony says cheerfully. He's already on his second cup of coffee and far too cheerful for the time.

“We didn't do anything, right?” Charles mutters.

“Define 'do' for me,” Tony says.

“We didn't have sex,” Charles says through a mouthful of toast.

“Sadly, no. We didn't have any kind of sexual encounter,” Tony tells him. It's more or less what Charles remembers, but with Tony is does tend to be worthwhile to check. There had been a night or two back in college when Charles had been a little too far gone to remember much and Tony had laughingly informed him of his completely inability to give blow jobs the next morning.

“Good.”

“You really do love him, don't you?” Tony says, leaning on his elbows.

“Yeah, I do,” Charles says dropping his head to the white marble counter. “I'm completely hopeless.” Tony manfully gives him a few pats on the back and watches in amused silence as Charles demands he hand over his bacon.

“And why, dear Charlie, should I give up my precious bacon?”

“Because Erik is Jewish and I'll probably miss out on all these delicious pork products once we get married and have five thousand children,” Charles announces. They both crack up completely and start fighting over the last of the bacon. Tony wins, of course, but it's a good battle.

Charles takes a shower once they're done with breakfast and complains about not having clean clothing until Tony rolls his eyes and gives him some. It smells of expensive soap that Pepper probably picked out, but they're pretty close in size and it's better than dirty clothing that smells of smoke and alcohol and The Atomic. The lesser of two evils indeed.

He hugs Tony goodbye and strolls out the door intent on finding Erik before he leaves for work. Charles ends up walking the wrong direction for a few blocks and has to turn around, but makes it to Erik's little white house eventually.

“Erik!” he announces happily, tumbling in through the front door and going to the kitchen to find Erik halfway through a bowl of oatmeal. Erik raises his eyebrows and stares at him for a while.

“Good morning,” Charles says, smiling. It's terrible, but Erik always has always found it extremely difficult to resist that smile. It's just a weakness he tries very hard to ignore.

“Morning,” Erik says, looking back down at his newspaper. Charles takes this as permission and settles into the chair across the table.

“Sorry about... yesterday. I know it's your business and I really shouldn't-” Charles says quietly and only stops short when Erik interrupts him.

“I reacted strongly. You were only curious.” It's pretty close to an apology and Charles is aware of the repentant feeling of his mind. Erik looks up, smiles at him for a moment, and looks away again almost as quickly. But as they sit there, a little, ignored seed of guilt grows in Charles' stomach until he can't quite stop it anymore.

“In the interest of honesty and because you're not a telepathic like me and because you probably wouldn't find out until Tony opened his big mouth, I did stay over with Tony last night,” Charles says quickly, like ripping off a band-aid in one fell swoop. He watches as Erik lifts his head very slowly and narrows his eyes ever so slightly.

“I may also have... kissed him,” Charles mutters, going progressively more quiet with each word. Erik's eyes narrow further.

“It wasn't like that. It was more of an apology and I didn't have anywhere to stay because Sean had some guy over and I just happened to run into him and he was being nice and it won't happen again.” Words start falling out of Charles' mouth as he tries to explain and backtrack all at the same time. Erik is understandably a bit annoyed at the idea, but perhaps not quite as angry as Charles expected.

“Is this what happens when I kick you out?” Erik says after a long pause.

“Not on purpose!” Charles replies. Erik sighs as he gives in and drags a hand over his face.

“You should have just come over here.”

“But you were angry and needed alone time and stuff,” Charles mutters guiltily.

“I wouldn't have kicked you out if you had nowhere else to go. Maybe just... the couch,” Erik replies. He sounds tired and a little bit amused, a sign that bodes well for the future.

“Can I do anything to make it up to you?” Charles asks, smiling sheepishly.

“You can go to the store and get milk, bread and condoms,” Erik says, smiling.

“Okay you might have to explain that combination,” Charles laughs.

“I'm out of them all and you're staying over tonight.” It actually makes a lot of sense, put like that, so Charles gets up and heads off to the store. He also buys chocolate because he feels like it and a box of tea he likes because Erik ran out of that a while ago and hasn't restocked. He also ends up running into Sean right when he's trying to decide between two different brands of condom and has this awkward moment in which Sean gives him advice on which he prefers and Charles thinks he never, ever wants to talk to anyone in this section ever again. He's pretty positive that he's blushing bright red.

“Provided you're not too busy fucking, decide on our apartment!” Sean yells as he walks away. Charles groans in response. He'd completely forgotten.

“I have to decide if we're going to stay or not,” Charles whines, flopping onto Erik's sofa after his return. “I like our place!”

“Sorry?” Erik asks mildly. It's become his default response when Charles jumps right into things without explaining them first. He keeps forgetting people can't read his mind.

“Our lease is up soon and Sean wants me to decide if we're going to stay,” he sighs, explaining the situation properly.  


“Your place is kind of a hole,” Erik says over a mug of coffee as he marks his place and sets down his book to look at where Charles' head has taken up residence in his lap.

“What? No it's not. It's... comfortable,” Charles argues. So Erik's leans over and picks up the pen and pad of paper from the coffee table to make Charles a proper scientific list about just why his place is a hole.

     1. Only one room.

     2. Only one bed shared with another gay man.

     3. ~~No light.~~ No natural light.

     4. Tiny bathroom.

     5. Tiny Kitchen

     6. Almost all items in apartment belong to other man.

     7. Not date friendly.

  


“What does that mean?” Charles asks when Erik hands it over and he comes to the last item on the list.

“It means you're twenty-four and shouldn't have to arrange times with your roommate every time you want to sleep with someone,” Erik replies casually, running fingers gently through Charles' hair. 

“And you deserve a full sized kitchen. Also a bathtub.”

“You have all of those things,” Charles replies, pressing against his hand like the little Siamese cat that lives under the front porch. They even have the same eyes.

“I guess that means you'll have to move in,” Erik says evenly. Charles stares up at him, not entirely sure whether Erik is making a joke or actually inviting Charles to move in. He probes at Erik's mind briefly, just to check, and finds that shockingly, he's completely serious.

“Yeah, I guess I will,” Charles says. He struggles to match Erik's stoicism, but only ends up cracking a brilliant smile. It's the best thing to have happened this week. Hell, it's probably the best thing to have happened this month, or possibly even in the last few combined.

 _  
Chapter 20 – The Road Before Us   
_

“Let's go on a trip,” Erik says suddenly. Charles looks up, surprised and reaches out to Erik's mind. It turns out that Erik has spent the better part of the last hour trying to figure out a way to keep Charles away from Tony without seeming overbearing. It's endearingly possessive of him.

“Can't hide things from a telepath,” Charles smiles, tapping his head, “but that does sound nice.”

Erik immediately rises and heads for the stairs to pack a bag.

“Now?” Charles laughs pulling himself off the comfortable couch to follow him.

“Yes, now,”

Pretty soon they've both packed a clean set of clothing and the barest essentials into a bag and strapped it to the back of Erik's motorcycle.

“We're just going to go? Just like this, without telling anyone?” Charles asks as he slings a leg over the seat and settles into place behind Erik, wrapping arms around his torso. Erik doesn't reply and starts the engine, which he takes as an affirmative answer. Charles' experience with motorcycles is limited and not terribly good overall, but it turns out that Erik is a completely competent driver who, unlike Logan, does not make him fear for his life. It doesn't hurt, of course, that Charles gets to press up against his warm back for almost an hour while they drive into the city. It wouldn't be like him to turn down an opportunity like that.

Charles looks up joyfully at the buildings and signs as they slide by, enjoying the vibrant life of the city. There are people everywhere, all of their minds blurring together into a way that should be loud and obnoxious but only ends up being soothing in the way that repetitive noise sometimes is. Charles remembers being a child and hating spaces like this because he couldn't filter, hadn't learned how. But now that he's grown up, there's a part of him that loves the energy of it all because he knows he's not the only person in the world. At times, he wonders how other people live, cooped up all alone in their own heads.

They're just cruising along, Erik navigating his way to some unknown destination, when Charles catches a name on a sign that sparks deja vu.

“Hey, Erik, look,” he says loudly against his ear pointing at the sign. Erik very nearly stops dead in the middle of traffic when he does, but manages to keep it together long enough to signal and pull off.

“I think I know that name, but I can't remember,” Charles says thoughtfully as they turn down a side street and Erik pulls into an open space.

“You said Emma saw Shaw there,” Erik tells him. That brings back the memory in a flash and Charles wants to hit himself for pointing it out at all. No good can come of this.

“Please don't do anything stupid,” Charles begs, getting off the bike and taking a moment to get used to feeling his legs again.

“I won't,” Erik says, striding away towards The Caspartina. It doesn't inspire very much confidence in Charles as he trots around the corner after Erik.

He does wonder briefly if magic is involved when Erik has a completely civil discussion with the man at the door and goes inside, Charles in tow, and doesn't toss anything around or cause trouble immediately.

The Caspartina turns out to be a strip club. There's really no other way to describe it, what with the scantily clad women walking around on tables and swinging their legs on poles.

“What exactly are you hoping to find here?” Charles says, leaning close.

“Anything useful,” Erik tells him. It's not a very good answer and it makes Charles frown as he sits at the bar and tries to ignores the perfect legs in four inch stilettos walking by his face. He lifts surreptitious fingers to his temple and does a proper sweep of the place looking for the word “Shaw” because it's virtually all he has to go on. Several other patrons know someone of that name, but the only person in the place that seems to connect any importance to it turns out to be one of the dancers on the bar.

“Her,” Charles whispers to him, glancing at the girl striding towards them. She exotically pretty, with tan skin and dark hair and eyes. As she turn, Charles sees a tattoo of insect wings that spread from her spine across her slender shoulders and upper arms. Erik glances up and stares openly for a moment in surprise.

“You know her,” Charles says. It isn't really a question.

“The fourth,” Erik tells him and Charles has to actually think about that for a moment or two before he connects the pieces. It's Erik's fourth evil ex.

“You dated a stripper?” he hisses as she steps closer. He wasn't really expecting to have to fight anyone tonight.

“They're people too. Talented people,” Erik smirks, taking a bill that he's folded in half and slipping it between Charles fingers. He only has a moment to be confused before Erik lifts his hand via his watch. There's barely time to struggle before the girl lowers herself to his level, breasts right in his face, and takes what turns out to be a hundred with a perfectly coy smile.

“For that daddy-o you get a private dance,” she croons. Charles looks at Erik in a panic.

They end up stretched out side by side on a plush red bed in a room lined with curtains.

“Erik,” she says glaring at him. It turns out her name is Angel, but Charles only knows because he checked and not because anyone bothered to make any introductions.

“Go on,” he gestures, clearly amused.

“No.”

“He did pay you,” Erik tells her, patting Charles' knee.

“It's double for two,” she says. It's true, technically, but it's also an excuse.

“It's okay, you don't have to” Charles tries to assure her.

“Is this him?” she asks and oh, great, now they're talking about him like he isn't even there.

“Mmmhm,” Erik hums, sharing a glance with Charles that must be pretty gay because it makes her snort.

“Charles Xavier,” he says in an attempt to reinstate himself in the conversation.

“Angel,” she sighs. “You don't look like you could hurt a fly.”

“Does that mean you don't want to fight?” Charles says hopefully. Maybe he'll be able to get away with this like he did with Azazel.

“I'm sure as hell not going to go back and say I lost,” she says, hands on her hips. Charles feels Erik tense slightly next to him in response and start worrying all over again. He's not prepared for this, he's all relaxed and pleased to be spending time with his boyfriend, and he's definitely not mentally prepared to thrown down the gauntlet with someone and a girl no less.

“Do you know where he is?” Erik says more sharply than before as Charles curls warning fingers around his arm.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” she snorts and Charles feels the moment that Erik chooses not to send the lamp flying at her head and is grateful for it.

“So, uh, I'll show you mine if you show me yours?” Charles says quickly, trying to smile.

“That's so not how it works,” she says, obviously unimpressed. But then Charles lifts fingers to his head and concentrates until what Angel sees is Erik sitting next to him in lacy womens lingerie and it's almost enough to make her crack a smile at Erik's expense.

“Alright, my turn,” she says, reaching back to unhook the clasp on her top as Erik casts a questioning look at him. Charles is terrified that her mutation is somehow connected to her work or that she's actually going to give him that dance he accidentally paid for. But then the tattoo on her back is unfurling slowly into real, honest to god wings and Charles is caught up in the beautiful science of it all for just long enough to forget he's supposed to fight her.

“So, I guess we might as well do this,” she says once she's hovering a few in the air.

“We don't have to. I mean this is your work and they probably won't appreciate any damage.”

“I've been thinking about finding a job where I get to keep my clothes on,” she says and spits some kind of absolutely disgusting acid ball at him that burns a hole in the sheets where he was sitting a moment before.

“Oh, fuck,” Charles says, running as fast as he can for the door to the room


	13. Chapter 13

He pulls it open and bolts, listening to the odd sounds of panic and what he assumes are more sticky acid balls eating through things that are, thankfully, not him. He runs out the front and across the sidewalk, weaving through the heavy traffic in the street until he gets to the other side and watches as a glass window display full of mannequins bursts into flames.

“Oh, shit!” he yells, panicking as he turns to face her and does the first thing he can think of which is to make himself invisible. He can hear Angel thinking that's he's a coward and several other unsavory things, but Charles Xavier is perfectly happy being a coward if it saves his skin from severe burns.

But then an old woman with a cane starts flailing it around over her head at Angel and shouting abuse while Charles does everything he can not to burst out laughing. Clearly, Angel is not so merciless as to hurt an old woman and is trying to figure out how to keep attacking Charles without causing the woman any harm.

He sees Erik across the street, looking around in confusion and thinks, “ _here, by the window._ ” Then Erik starts moving, vaulting easily over the hood of a car and running until he reaches Charles. By that time, Charles is laughing so hard that he accidentally loses his grip on the illusion and watches the flicker of annoyed emotions on Angel's face as she sees him appear.

Erik crunches to a halt at his side and drags him bodily out of harms way as Angel spits at him and continues to tug him along at a flat-out run.

“Think of something,” Erik shout at him as they run down the sidewalk, bumping shoulders with disgruntled humans along the way. Charles tries to stop for a woman who spills her shopping but Erik doesn't allow it.

“Why can't you do something?” Charles shouts back.

“This isn't my fight.”

“You fought Emma for me.

“That was different,” Erik tells him as he grabs Charles around the waist and spins him out of the way.

“Why are you so good at this?” Charles asks as he struggles to regain his balance on Erik's other side.

“Doesn't matter,” Erik replies and keeps running without missing a beat. Instead of pressing it, Charles dredges up anything he can remember about strategy and lets Erik guide him as he reaches out for Angel's mind. She has an advantage, being in the air like that, and he needs to get her down.

Charles roots around a bit in her head and finds a trigger that will send her power back into remission or dormancy, whatever he wants to call it, which is pretty fair considering she just tried to kill him. But she is high enough off the ground that a straight drop could cause some damage and he's not that much of an asshole so he goes for the balance first, a simple case of forcing the brain to misinterpret information sent from the ear. She drops low enough that he can justify taking away her ability to fly completely and that's when he turns around and presses fingers to his temple to do the thing properly.

Angel drops with an angry squawk, but hits the ground running, heels be damned, and aims a vicious punch at his nose from which he is only partially saved by Erik's hand yanking hard on his collar.

“Ow,” Charles yelps, covering his nose and trying to check if he's bleeding. He wants to hit back but Angel is a girl and maybe it's some kind of pretentious, noble thing, but he really doesn't like hitting girls. She's about to go again when they're distracted by the sharp _whoopwhoop_ of a police siren and a bit of shouting from the officer in question.

“Hide us,” Erik hisses in his ear so Charles does just that. It isn't like making them invisible so much as it is making the attention of the officer slide away from them like water on glass. He knows they're there, he just doesn't really care as he advances on Angel and rattles on about public disturbances.

Charles has learned by now that these battles with the evil exes usually end when he gets a coin, the purpose of which is unknown, from the evil ex in question.

“Does she have money on her?” he asks and realizes what a stupid question that is when Erik snorts a laugh.

“Okay, let me rephrase, does she have a big coin?” he amends quickly. People don't, to his knowledge, generally pay strippers in coins, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find.

Erik gestures with his hand to retrieve it and stares in surprise at the coin in his palm for a moment before Charles plucks it out and drops it into his pocket.

“Does this count as winning and can we run now?” Charles asks, ignoring the strangely confused churn of Erik's mind.

“I'd say so,” he says and then they're both running, as Angel tries unsuccessfully to squeeze away and follow them. Charles starts laughing first and Erik follows with his softer chuckle.

“Did you ruin her power completely?” Erik says as they reach his motorcycle and scramble on.

“Oh, no, of course not. She'll be alright in a few hours,” Charles says, looking at him curiously.

“Pity,” Erik says carelessly as he starts the engine and pulls away. He feels the way Charles tenses a little against his back, but neither of them chooses to comment.

 

 **THE HOTEL**

He and Erik have a nice dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant several blocks away with this amazing Vietnamese drip coffee and afterward Charles charms the nice girl behind the hotel desk into giving him a chess set. She's actually very nice and if Erik hadn't been standing behind his shoulder and projecting a slew of thoughts that made him blush, he might actually have spent some time chatting with her. She's even reading a thick book on philosophy behind the counter.

“Stop making eyes at her,” Erik whispers as they walk away.

“I'm not!” Charles protests.

They play a few rounds of chess, have a few drinks and end up tied for games. Charles always tries to stay out of Erik's head when they play because he considers it cheating. As such, it's genuinely surprising when Erik speaks.

“Why didn't you go all the way?” he asks. It sounds innocent but there's a hard look in his eye that makes Charles uncomfortable.

“She didn't deserve it,” he says quietly.

“She attacked you. You would have been severally hurt if not dead if she'd had better aim or I hadn't done something,” Erik says, leaning back in his chair and fixing Charles with a hard stare.

“She didn't really want to fight,” Charles says quietly.

“Actions speak louder than words, Charles. She attacked you first.”

“Are you really that merciless?” Charles asks him. Erik has never been the most gentle person he knows but it's still pretty harsh.

“When someone attacks me, I consider it an act of war. Retaliation is inevitable.” Erik says coolly.

“What would have had me do? Cripple her?” Charles says rubbing the bridge of his nose. He has to make a conscious effort not to snap at Erik.

“It's hardly crippling, Charles. She'd still be able to walk, eat, make a living.”

“It's like, well you'll excuse the metaphor, but it's like pulling the wings off a fly and leaving it to crawl around. It's alive, sure, but you've taken away part of what it means to be a fly in the first place,” Charles argues. To most mutants, their ability is as much as part of them as an arm or a leg. Taking it away is nothing like taking away a favorite teddy bear and everything like ripping out a lung. It's simply unthinkable.

“There go your naïve morals again,” Erik says darkly, “you could be so much more if you just let all that go.”

“I'm sorry I can't just be a bastard,” he snaps suddenly. He knows it's just what Erik believes, but is so hard to respect that when Erik is asking him to be the same way. It's one of those big things they have never agreed on.

“You're a coward with a soft heart,” Erik says sharply. “It's people like you that let them create all those anti-mutant laws in the sixties, rounding us up like cattle instead of fighting back.”

“That's not how it is anymore,” he says and hates the way it sounds like begging. It's people like him, he thinks, that spent all that time compromising instead of massacring, that worked year after year to get those same laws repealed. It's people like him that fixed it.

“Have you seen the way they still look at us, Charles?” Erik growls.

“Worse. I've heard what they think,” Charles says, standing and heading for the door. He not sure he knows how they got from Angel to something so big, but he's in no mood to argue about it either way. This isn't a classroom and if they go too far, it's not something they'll just be able to brush off when the bell rings. He doesn't want to cause wounds that will be difficult to heal.

On the way down in the elevator, Charles makes all of these grand plans about grabbing a taxi to the Empire State Building to go up and watch the city, or going out on the town and making a glorious night of it without Erik. He wants to get fantastically drunk and hit on all the pretty people he can find and get covered in glitter in the back room at some stupid club with the music pounding too-loud in his ears and chest. In the end, he gets no further than the charming little bar on the ground level of the hotel. It's a classic kind of affair, all soft brown leather and red-tinted light. He's certain that at one time it would have been filled with a gentle haze of smoke that lent a certain quality to the light that spoke of old movies and times gone by. It's just the sort of thing that has always charmed him, courted with that bit of old man in him that his friends are always complaining about.

Hours and hours later, when Charles is sleepy and more drunk than he is sober, he watches Erik walk past the door to the bar looking damp and unhappy. He musters the energy to be properly annoyed at Erik again, and then realizes that he's walking toward their room, not away from it and has probably been out in the rain all this time trying to find Charles in a city of millions without even the gift of telepathy.

After that, Charles can only find it in his heart to feel guilty, so he sends a gentle, apologetic nudge at Erik just as he's about to step onto the elevator that makes him turn and look around. There aren't really that many places to hide in the lobby and Erik finds him easily enough, settling onto the little piano bench next to him with a tired sigh.

“I didn't know you could play,” he says quietly. Charles makes an affirmative noise in response and carries on moving his fingers over the keys, pulling and pushing at a morose song he only half remembers. He supposes he really was a proper little rich boy after all, taking lessons from the time he was eight.

“I thought you were just utterly incapable of producing music,” Erik says, a smiling curling at his lips. He's testing the water between them, careful but hopeful.

“I'm just rubbish with things with strings,” Charles replies. He's not quite ready for this kind of banter, but he knows that there's only so long he can hold out on Erik before he gives in.

“I don't have to agree with you on everything,” Erik sighs. He'll never admit he's wrong because he doesn't believe it, but there's still a coloring of guilt there because he made Charles unhappy at all.

“I would never expect you to,” Charles replies, shifting fingers up into the higher notes of the song he's playing. It's supposed to be at least four times faster than this, it's probably not even recognizable, but he likes it so he keeps playing. It's not like there's anyone but the bartender and now Erik to listen.

“Do you really think I'm a coward?” he asks quietly.

“I guess you could do with being a little less of one,” Erik says after a careful pause. Charles nods and leans against him with a gentle pressure. There's a part of him that knows that Erik is right, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

“You could do with being a little kinder,” he tells Erik and isn't entirely certain if he spoke it aloud or straight into his head. He's getting too comfortable with skirting around the edges of Erik's mind all the time.

Charles watches as he slides fingers onto the lower register and joins in seamlessly. It's beautiful, flawless and utterly unexpected, the way they can simply sit and play together like this as though they've known each other for a long as they can remember. Charles looks up at his face and thinks that of course Erik is good at this with those big hands and nimble fingers. It's like he was made to pull beautiful sounds out of instruments and Charles alike. He's Erik and even though he's not perfect in so many ways, he's perfect to Charles in all the ways that matter and suddenly his chest aches in the most exquisite way.

“Erik, I lo-” and then there's a jarring beat in which a note doesn't come when it's supposed to and Erik's fingers are over his mouth and his lips are on Charles' brow.

“We should get you to bed,” Erik whispers, “you've had too much to drink.” Charles wants to argue that he hasn't really had that much, but the prospect of bed does sound absolutely wonderful and he's pretty sure he just made a pitiful little sound at the suggestion that will almost certain negate any other arguments he could make. There's no helping it after that, so he allows Erik to lead the way back to their room and put him to bed.

“I'm sorry about the rain,” Charles mutters, curling up under the sheets as he watches Erik strip. He shrugs as if to say it doesn't matter and once he's finished, slips under the covers and proceeds to leech warmth from Charles's bare back.

 

 _ Chapter 21 – The L-word _

When Charles wakes up, it's because Erik sets down a tray of food on the table next to his head.

“Second time in two days I've had room service ordered for me,” he hums, pushing himself up against the headboard, his smile sleep-soft around the edges is that lovely way Erik likes. The comment, however, has him scowling his disapproval.

Charles pulls Erik down to kiss the little frown off his lips and says “oh, relax. I love you more than Tony” before pulling back to look up Erik properly with a flustered expression.

“Oh, damn it, that was supposed to be so much more romantic. Can you forget I said it and let me take you out for dinner tonight instead?” he says, utterly embarrassed. Erik looks steadily more predatory with each second that ticks by and it doesn't bode well for his request.

“I don't think I can wait that long. But I'll give you one more try before I ravish you,” Erik informs him. Charles laughs pleasantly and climbs out of bed to stand facing Erik. He's shorter, so much so that he actually has to look up into Erik's face and go up on his toes to get a proper kiss in. But that isn't the kind of thing that's on his mind as he curls hands around each side of Erik's face and smiles.

“I love you, Erik Lensherr,” Charles says and means it with every last bit of his heart.

“I love you too, Charles,” Erik says and grins that enormous sharky grin of his as he wraps arms around him.

+9999 EXP.

LEVEL UP

Heart + 5

Bravery +3

Will +2

Telepathy +1

 **CHARLES EARNED THE POWER OF LOVE.**  

He manages to get one long, loving, perfect kiss in before Erik tosses him on the bed and makes good on his promise. The food has good a bit cold by the end of it, but Charles thinks, as he sits there relaxed and wonderfully happy, that it's just the price one pays for this sort of thing.

 

 **MOVING DAY: CHARLES XAVIER**

“Oh my god, you two don't get to fuck until we've left,” Alex shouts through the bedroom door. Charles isn't really doing anything but laying on the bed he's slept in dozens of time already and grinning like a fool about how it's really his bed now, their bed. But Erik took up residence next to him several minutes earlier and apparently two people being on a bed is enough to get Alex going about sex because he has a dirty, perverted mind. He also just liked giving Charles some good, friendly grief.

“Go bring my stuff in,” Charles orders, waving an imperious hand.

“It's not like you own anything. It only took one trip,” Alex says, leaning against the door frame. Logan appears behind him and looks in on them. He looks angry, which isn't really a new look, but Charles can feel the slightly fond, slightly proud feeling coming from him and smiles to himself.

“I can't believe you had the audacity to ask both of us to help you move when you own that little,” Alex says. In truth, Charles owns a lot of stuff, a whole mansion full of stuff. But Alex and Logan doesn't know that and think that the contents of the two cardboard boxes, two trash bags and a plastic bin that they brought over from the hole previously know at Sean and Charles' home is everything that he owns in the world.

“Thank you,” Charles replies. It means a lot to him that his friends are willing to help him move. Although to be fair, he did help Alex move his substantially larger pile of crap in boiling hot weather earlier in the summer. Alex owes him.

 

 **THE OLD APARTMENT – Good Riddance**

“Are you sure about this?” Sean says, clapping him on the shoulder as they stand in the middle of the bare room they used to share.

“Are you kidding? Of course I am. I feel great about this” Charles says cheerfully.

“I'm really glad everything worked out for you.”

“Me too.”

“I signed on a lease with Warren like two weeks ago and you would've been completely screwed,” Sean says, all smiles.

“You bastard,” Charles says, giving him a token glare without any force behind it.

“I kind of wish we could burn it to the ground, don't you?” Sean says, looking around.

“A little. But the landlord would murder us. He'd definitely know,” Charles sighs.

“Fuck, no. He'd be thanking us. I bet he'd rather have the insurance money.” Charles starts laughing at that because Sean is probably right.

“Well, give me a call some time,” Sean says outside as he takes a moment to flip the bird at the door they never have to walk through again.

“It's been good, Sean. Maybe not wonderful, but good,” Charles says with a bright smile and a wave as Sean gets into a mysterious, borrowed car filled with his stuff and drives away.

 

 **TIME TO GET DRUNK – That delicious Thai bar and grill place Charles loves**

Charles stands up at the head of the big table and raises his shot glass in the air. Everyone at the table has been supplied with a matching one and they are all a shocking color of blue. He's already had a few drinks, but he's determined to think that the noodles in his stomach will soak up the alcohol and keep him from doing anything really stupid.

“This party is to celebrate Sean and I moving out of our apartment. It was terrible and we all knew it,” he announces. There's a resounding cheer and then everyone tips back their heads and does the shot in one. Charles staggers just a little as he drops the glass to the table with a click and feels Erik's steadying hand on his elbow.

“Sit down before you hurt yourself,” Tony yells at him and starts laughing.

“Shut up, Tony,” Charles yells back with a big grin.

“You're both so funny,” Moira giggles furiously.

“Are we letting her drink beer again?” Anna asks, frowning.

“Fuck, yes we are and it's hilarious,” Logan growls.

“Where's Warren? I feel like I deserve to see the guy after seeing his--” Charles says, looking at Sean and stopping himself before he gets any farther than that. He does have a little bit of shame left.

“He has a migraine. Parties and migraine don't mix, in case you didn't know,” Sean replies.

“I can't believe you've been secretly dating since Chapter 12,”

“I can't believe we haven't all thrown up yet from your deep and abiding love for the German and his big dick,” Sean grins back.

“And how would you know something like that?” Erik says, flashing teeth at Sean.

“It's gotta be impressive to turn Charles, the famous ladies man,” Sean says and most of the table cackles unkindly while Charles flushes.

“You make it sound like I've been turned into a vampire,” he says.

“I don't think blood is what you've been sucking,” Sean quips and it's just so terrible that Charles drops his head to the table with a groan. Tony, however, looks quite proud of Sean. It was probably a terrible idea to introduce them to each other at all.

Anna starts leaning on Logan shortly after that and crooning things that she thinks are quiet and really aren't at him about how she's sorry for being a brat and how charming he is. Logan looks extremely uncomfortable and Charles starts laughing hysterically when he reads his mind, but won't tell anyone why. Logan casts him a glance that is absolutely murderous and slides his claws out just to look threatening.

“I have a PhD is psychology. Don't think I don't know what's going on here,” Charles definitely does not slur at Logan.

“I thought it was biophysics,” Hank says.

“Wait, no, it's definitely genetics. It's all he talks about,” Alex says, looking at Hank oddly. They start bickering about it, Logan joining in to grumble that Charles probably doesn't have a PhD at all.

“I'm not lying,” Charles says, mustering the energy to straighten up and look affronted.

“So which is it?” Alex asks him.

“You're all right,” Charles tells them. The response is a momentary silence followed by someone saying, “man, he really is hammered.”

“I think I know what PhDs I have,” Charles bickers.

“You're, what, 24? There's no way you have three,” Alex tells him.

“I'm 25 next month and that's not the point.”

“Guys, guys,” Tony says, tapping a spoon against his glass to get attention.

“He went to Oxford and did all three at once. I can pull up the credentials on my phone if you want me to prove it,” Tony tells him, gesturing vaguely with his ridiculously nice phone that's so new it doesn't even have a model name.

“What? Charles are you some kind of super genius?” Alex says. He's actually surprised, something Charles feels he's allowed to be a little smug about.

“Sort of,” he says just as Tony says, “yes” after which Charles starts laughing. Trust Tony to be his ego for him.

“Hey, listen, I have a proposition for you,” Tony says once they're all standing around outside and saying their goodbyes. He curls a companionable arm around Charles' shoulders and ignores the glare he gets from Erik. Charles looks up at him with a smile that's just this side of vacant and Tony knows that it's probably not the right time for this after all.

“Buuut, I think we should just talk when you're sober. Do you have any time tomorrow?”

“It's not like I have a job,” Charles grins and then he blinks and looks at Tony curiously because he just groped a little drunkenly at Tony's mind and apparently his so-called proposition is actually something serious.

“If I can help you, I will do my utmost,” Charles tells him sincerely.

“Can you remind him in the morning?” Tony says, glancing up at Erik.

“I'm not guaranteeing anything,” Erik smirks. He has every intention of conveniently forgetting to tell Charles anything of the sort and Tony knows it. But he's counting on the fact that Erik will still remember and that after that Charles will extract it from him one way or another.

“Goodnight everyone!” Charles calls as Erik starts up his bike. Most of them wave and there's a mismatched chorus of replies that leave Charles feeling pretty content with his life as he holds onto Erik for the drive home.


	14. Chapter 14

Charles Xavier vs. The Universe

 _Chapter 22 – Like an Adult_

The next morning Charles is stuck with a vicious hangover that has him floundering around in the middle of their bed and refusing to get up or do anything useful. Hangovers also tend to make Charles pretty lax about his power, so he ends up bleeding into Erik's head and discovering Tony's request as predicted.

“You didn't tell me,” he whines, struggling into an upright position in the center of a very messed up pile of covers.

“Like anyone actually expected me to,” Erik says from the next room. He knows exactly what Charles is talking about.

“I am comforted only by the fact that Tony will be suffering as much as I am right now when we have our meeting,” Charles says, climbing off the bed and going in search of clean clothing. Erik keeps doing his laundry for him no matter how much he protests.

“Can I barrow a tie?” Charles mutters.

“You're going to wear a tie?”

“No, you're right. It's stupid,” he says, ambling into the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth with Erik.

“I'm going to make toast,” Erik says, walking away even though he's already eaten.

“I love you,” Charles says after him.

He calls Tony on the house phone and receives a very complicated set of directions to some random location he's never been, before Tony says, “no, fuck it, I'll meet you at that coffee shop.”

“Mendel's or Cafe Gesell?” Charles sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Gesell. See you soon,” Tony says, suddenly distracted by what sound like electrical equipment shorting out in the background. He hangs up before Charles can say anything in reply.

Erik offers to drive him, an offer that Charles declines because it's not really that far anyway and he shouldn't be asking his boyfriend to drive him to meet someone his boyfriend dislikes immensely. He ends up taking the bus because the prospect of walking in the bright sunlight is abhorrent.

When he arrives, Tony isn't there yet so he bothers Anna about whether or not his sister is working today. When it turns out she isn't, he orders something from Anna instead. So much for free drinks.

“You look terrible,” she informs him.

“Gee, I wonder why,” he says, handing over a few bills to pay for his sweet, sweet caffeine.

Tony slides into a seat on the other side of the table Charles takes up residence at and grins at him from behind the same big, dark sunglasses he'd had on the first day. Charles suspects that this time the purpose is to hide from the sun more than it is to hide from Pepper who has, as of yet, shown no sign of actually being nearby.

“I think you said you wanted something from me,” Charles says, trying to remember.

“I said I had a proposition for you,” Tony counters.

“Almost the same thing.”

“Well, in this case it really is more of an offer. I'm offering you a job,” he says. Charles blinks at him in surprise for a few moments before realizing he's forgotten to close his mouth.

“There's no way I'd be so immensely useful to Stark Industries that you'd come in person,” he says, still in shock.

“Well strictly speaking, it's a joint project between Stark Industries and Harvard. I need a good professor who doesn't already have a gig elsewhere. So I figured, hey, why not,” Tony explains cheerfully.

“There are plenty of good professors who need jobs. You just needed one insane enough to go along with whatever ridiculous idea you've cooked up,” Charles accuses him. But the thing is, Charles has actually been thinking pretty hard about getting a job lately and unless Tony's proposition involves bodily harm or other terrifying experimentation, he might actually agree.

“Exactly.”

Charles drops his head to the table and groans, “I must be insane after all” as Tony starts chuckling affectionately.

“It's far from the strangest thing I've come up with. Essentially, you'll just be given a teaching position at Harvard with a paycheck, benefits, the full boat of barely worthwhile things they give to teachers. I'll need to get you approved, but that'll be easy.”

“Tony, isn't Harvard something like four hours away?” Charles says, realization sinking in. He likes his life here, his friends and most especially Erik.

“See, that's the beauty of it. Your commute will only be ten minutes, tops,” Tony replies.

“If this is some kind of super-speed transportation-” Charles starts, only to be cut off.

“It's not. You know about video conference lectures, right?”

“I hate them. They lag, or don't work and usually it's almost impossible to ask questions at the right times,” Charles replies bitterly. He's been to several and each and every one was a disaster.

“That's exactly the point. This is going to be in a whole different league,” Tony announces. He's looks extremely pleased with himself, which isn't new, but there's an excited glint to his eye that he always gets when he starts working on special projects.

“So I'll be teaching a class at Harvard using some kind of advanced video conferencing thing you've devised?” Charles asks, just to confirm that he has all of this right.

“Pretty much. Although, it's not really 'video' anymore when it's in 3-D,” Tony replies, and okay this is actually starting to sound pretty cool.

“So what's your motivation in all this?” Charles smirks. There's no way that Tony would personally work on a project like this without some personal motivation. He's just not that charitable towards the students of the world.

“See, the thing is, I waste all this time flying around to give presentations and accept awards when I could be doing other, better things.”

“And it'll keep you safer,” Charles says, his eyes softening a little in understanding. Tony is making a good show of thinking about charming women and casinos, but Charles can feel all the threads of motivation at work in his mind.

“Well, I can sure market it that way when I release it commercially. Imagine- all the world leaders can do what they do without having to go anywhere or put themselves in danger. Musicians, inspirational speakers, even families, it's the future of communication,” Tony rattles off. He's definitely trying to fend off the concern that Charles was trying to show for him, but it's also a pretty good sales pitch.

“You practice that a lot?” Charles smiles.

“Every night in front of the mirror,” Tony replies with a wink.

“So when do I start?” Charles asks. If he's honest, he's getting pretty excited about this. He wants a job and he can put up with Tony's shit. In short, he's exactly the sucker that Tony needs.

“Next term, so some time in January. I'm almost ready to do an early test run, but it'll be a while before it's fine tuned.”

Charles' face drops a little at the news. It makes sense: school has already started pretty much everywhere and classes don't start mid-semester. But it's still disappointing that he's going to have to wait that long.

“Well, I should go,” Tony says, checking his watch and standing up. Charles plucks a thought from the top of his head and finds that Pepper actually is in town too and Tony had promised to bring her coffee over an hour ago.

“Thank you, my friend,” he says, grinning ear to ear as he stands too and holds out his hand. Tony shakes it briefly and aims a sloppy salute at him as he strides out the door.

 

 **SEVERAL WEEKS LATER – Erik's House**

“I'm home,” Charles calls, dropping his keys in the dish by the door and shrugging off his coat. The house is oddly dark so he goes casting about for Erik's mind, just to confirm that he's home, and runs into the minds a bunch of his friends congregated in the living room.

“Shall I pretend to be surprised?” he says, stepping into the dark room with an amused smile.

“Happy Birthday!” his sister yells, jumping out from behind the armchair and wrapping arms around his neck as the lights flick on. Charles wraps one arm around her waist and holds her close, laughing.

“I told you this was stupid,” Alex says, straightening up behind the sofa and glaring at her, Logan by his side. Erik rises next to them, rubbing the back of his neck and looking mildly annoyed by the whole thing.

“You do remember I'm a telepath, right?” Charles asked, bemused.

“Sometimes you don't pay attention. It was worth a try,” Raven says, smiling.

“How did you get Erik to agree to this?” he asks.

“I didn't agree to anything,” Erik grumbles before anyone else can reply.

“Raven, are you bullying my boyfriend? I thought you stopped harassing my significant others back in high school,” Charles says.

“I only bullied them if they were vapid or horrible and I only stopped because you went to college” she tells him with an innocent smile. The thought _mutant and proud_ floats through her head, a recollection of a girl she'd hated with particular venom years ago, and it makes Charles laugh.

“Oh, and cake” he says happily, plucking the thought from the hum in the room.

“Why did we even wrap the presents again?” Alex sighs.

“At least Sean's will be a surprise since he's not here,” Logan shrugs.

“Alright, alright, I'll make an effort to hold back,” Charles says with a grin. He's been ruining birthdays since before he can remember, but he figures it's worth a try. The whole element of surprise must have some merit given how much importance people attribute to it.

The guest list consists of Erik, Raven, Alex, Logan and Hank, which is fewer than Charles might have expected normally. But Sean is off on some kind of weird trip to Connecticut with his boy-toy Warren and Tony has been kidnapped by Pepper. Apparently, he's set to attend some big event in Las Vegas. Anna doesn't really have any special love for Charles and she's not “on again” with Logan so she doesn't have a reason to show up. Moira wasn't told, which is probably for the best.

Charles' cake is in the shape of a dinosaur because Raven is mean and just can't let go of the time he asked for one like it on his tenth birthday. He supposes it's better than the unicorn she'd gotten him last year, so he isn't about to complain. The dinosaur tastes good either way.

They all sing to him despite his asking them not to, even Erik because Raven is threatening his kidney with a fork. Charles smiles at him especially because he knows that Erik could disarm her with a thought and he's really doing it of his own volition.

“Blow out your candles and make a wish,” Raven grins. So Charles does.

CHARLES XAVIER WINS HIS BIRTHDAY!

+100 Cake

Then come the presents and Charles has to try very, very hard not to spoil each and every one for himself before he opens it. In their absence, Sean and Tony have also sent gifts. Charles sincerely hopes it isn't anything too embarrassing.

CHARLES XAVIER'S PRESENTS CONTAIN:

6-pack of beer – Logan

two calendars: police babes and shirtless firemen - Alex

set of plastic dinosaurs – Raven

subscription to a Genetics magazine he likes - Raven

shiny new biophysics book Charles has been wanting – Hank

dildo + package of assorted fruit flavored condoms – Sean

gift certificate to the Thai place to make up for the last gift – Sean

a watch worth more than he wants to think about – Tony

a computer with no label that looks like it isn't on the market yet – Tony

With Sean's gifts is a note:

 _Happy Birthday._

 _You'll probably need this._

Charles isn't entirely sure which of his gifts that's supposed to apply to.

With Tony's is another note:

 _Happy Birthday, Charlie._

 _I was going to get you a car, but Pepper yelled at me. You're probably going to need these come Janurary anyway and so she says it's more 'sensible.' The car is still really cool though. I'll get it if you want it. Or maybe I'll get it for myself and drive you around in it._

 _Love and kisses, Tony_

Charles promptly hides that note and tries to subtly put the gifts under some leftover paper as well to ward off potential question.

 

 **LATER**

Charles wanders around the little kitchen picking up stray bits of wrapping paper and taking plates to the sink until Erik pulls everything out of his hands and banishes him from the room. Charles doesn't go, but rather perches on the little kitchen table to watch.

“Generally, people aren't supposed to do chores on their birthday,” Erik tells him, floating all the silverware to the sink in one go before he starts on the plates.

“They're my silly friends messing up your house. I should probably do something,” Charles says, leaning back on his hands.

“It's our house and I think your friends are my friends by now,” Erik replies quietly.

“Okay, our house. But the real question is, what have you gotten me for my birthday?” Charles says, tipping his head and quirking a smile. He's only joking, but he feels the way that Erik's mind flinches guiltily and hurries to say, “not that you have to get me one at all, of course.”

“What do you want?” Erik says, casual as anything. He really is extraordinarily good at sounding like he doesn't care about things when he does.

“I don't know. I'm actually pretty happy just to have you,” Charles says, playing with the edge of his sweater.

“You might as well just,” Erik says and makes a funny twiddly gesture at his head with his fingers before going back to the dishes. So Charles does and finds that Erik has been worrying himself silly for weeks now and still hasn't come up with anything he thinks is good enough. It's really very sweet. Charles doesn't really have anything better to do, so he starts going through the ideas that Erik has discarded along the way.

“A ring would be too much like a proposal, you're right,” he mutters and Erik looks over his shoulder at Charles with a half smile.

“I don't wear jewelry. We have a perfectly decent chess set. I don't want clothing,” Charles rattles off, staring into the middle distance in the way he often does when he's distracted by the contents of someone's mind.

“Enjoying yourself?” Erik says and it draws his attention back to the room.

“What? Oh, sorry,” Charles splutters like he's been caught doing something perverse.

“I thought about giving you this old pocket watch but it seemed a bit old fashioned. You don't wear things like that,” Erik shrugs.

“Erik, if you gave me a pocket watch I would go and buy more vests just so I could wear it,” Charles laughs. It's not like he doesn't already have a reputation for dressing like an old man anyway. Maybe his future students will think it's dapper.

But then he dips into Erik head, just briefly, and finds that the watch was made by his great grandfather and as if that isn't enough, it's the one that his great grandfather gave to his grandfather just before shipping them out of Germany at the start of the war. It's probably the last one his great grandfather ever made before he had one of those hateful numbers tattooed into his arm.

“You can't give me that. What are you thinking?” Charles says in shock, cutting off whatever Erik had been about to say.

“I can give it to whoever I want,” Erik says a little sourly.

“But that's ridiculous. It's too important. I'm not worth it.”

Erik just stands and looks at him with an unreadable expression. But the thing is, he honestly does believe Charles is worth it. He believes, if possible, that Charles is more than worth it and it scares them both more than a little.

“Would you really wear it?” Erik says after a long silence.

“Yes. Absolutely. But you can't give it to me,” Charles tells him. But he knows by the look in Erik's eyes that he's already lost.

“We're going out to dinner tomorrow too,” Erik says and really just that would have been enough of a present since the beginning.

 

 **OCTOBER 31 st \- Halloween**

“I think she's trying to kill us,” Alex moans, shuffling up to Charles and Erik with a glass of something that looks potent.

“There have been a lot of these costume parties lately,” Charles sighs

“This one gets a free pass because it's actually Halloween,” Raven says.

“And dude, what are you wearing?” Alex says, looking over Erik with a critical eye.

“A jacket covered in chickens,” Erik says without much feeling.

“No, no, see they're chicks and he's magnetic, thus a chick magnet,” Charles says a bit proudly. It's pretty obvious that he's the one who put it together.

“So what are you supposed to be?” Logan says turning to him and looking him up and down.

“Looks like the world's ugliest cockroach,” Alex laughs.

“Well I'm a potato, which is a spud, and I have my antennas,” Charles says, adjusting the little metal antennas in question.

They all give him slightly blank looks until Raven says, “oh, spud-nik, Sputnik,” and Charles grins brilliantly. If she wasn't his sister, he'd marry her. 

It's actually quite disconcerting because rather than dressing up like anyone or anything in particular, Raven has just opted to bring her power out in full force for the evening. She's been wandering around all night turning into any number of different people and confusing the hell out of everyone but Charles who can always identify her by the feeling of her mind. At the moment she's in the shape of the president, which is disturbing on many levels not the least of which is because she's talking like she usually does, perky and a little flirty, but with an adult, male voice.

“I'm going for a smoke,” Logan growls looking at the open door to the balcony and stalking towards it with Alex by his side. Charles makes as if to follow them, but is stopped by Erik's hand on his shoulder.

“Over there,” Erik says gesturing across the room at a pair of men who look a little old to be at this particular party.

“Who are they?” Charles says curiously.

“Five and six,” Erik says slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Wait, the fifth and sixth evil boyfriends? Also, not both of them at once I hope?” Charles says, looking at him aghast.

“Something like that,” Erik shrugs. He's giving off an unusual feeling that Charles doesn't like. It's distinctly more uncomfortable than the reaction Erik had displayed with all the evil exes prior to these. 

Erik moves steadily towards the two men in question, Charles in tow.

 

[     _Taylor Bauer_ ]  
[ _Tall, thin and sleazy_ ]

[       _Boar Bauer_ ]  
[ _Short, wide and piggy_ ]

 

“Look who it is,” one of them says, grinning and nudging the other.

“Ah, if it isn't Erik Lensherr,” the other grins.

“What are you doing here?” Erik says sharply.

“Didn't you hear? There's a new brewery in town: the Bauer Brothers Brewery, serving only the finest German beer.”

“The name rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?”

“Fine. But why are you here,” Erik hisses, pointing at the party.

“That beer you're drinking came from somewhere.”

“It's good, ya?”

Secretly, Charles wonder if it's actually 'German' beer if it's manufactured in New York, but he's not about to start a fight before he has to, and certainly not with two at once.

“And this is Charlie Savior?” Taylor asks, looking at him.

“Charles Xavier,” he says automatically and isn't quite sure if he should hold out his hand or not. Neither of these men seem like they would be inclined to shake it, so in the end he leaves it by his side.

“Did you come here to fight me?” Charles asks, looking between the two in concern.

“No,” they reply together and take identical swigs of their beer.

“So are you just going to withdraw?” Charles says hopefully.

“No,” they say again. Charles supposes it was too much to hope for that he might get not one, but two of the remaining exes out of the way with no struggle at all.

“No reason to waste good beer. Maybe next time,” Boar says.

 

 **OUTSIDE**

“Oh, that's cute,” Alex says, flipping open his phone to check on a text he'd missed because of the noise inside.

“Hmm?” Logan says, taking a long drag on a cigarette.

“Sean likes to send drunk texts to Charles but Charles is stupid and doesn't have a phone. I'm like a fucking secretary.”

“Isn't Erik a more likely bet?” Logan says, holding out his hand for the phone. The text reads “Hey budddddy. I'm drunk for u (u=Charles). xoxo” which is surprisingly coherent for one of Sean's inebriated attempts at texting.

“Are you kidding? Sean could be passing out drunk and he'd still be smart enough not to text Erik something like that,” Alex says with an amused laugh.

“Probably right,” Logan shrugs, handing the phone back.

 

 **LATER**

Somehow Charles doesn't end up fighting anyone and only gets recruited by Alex to go and apprehend a bottle of the good tequila from the liquor table. It turns into some kind of stupid spy mission that Erik opts out of, and eventually it's just Logan sitting and drinking beer on the coffee table because the couch is occupied by kissing people he doesn't know.

Moira wanders over from where she'd been standing with some people she kind of knows and sits down next to him nervously.

“Why aren't you guys playing?” she asks, glancing at the sub-par band setting up across the room under instruction from Anna.

“I told you, we broke up,” he says.

“What? The X-Men broke up?” she says in shock. She is their biggest fan.

“No. Me and Anna,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, for like the fiftieth time,” she says, relaxing and glancing over at Charles.

“You're not still pining for him, right?” Logan says, following her gaze.

“Oh, uh, no. Of course not. It's just that he seems really happy with Erik,” she blusters, making Logan roll his eyes. It's obvious she's still infatuated.

“You know he cheated on you, right?” Logan mentions over his beer. It's a commercial brand because he's not sure he trusts the creepy guys who brought the local stuff.

“Well, yeah, but-” she says, smiling. It's too easy to forgive Charles the stupid things he does.

“He was dating you because it was easy. Then Erik came along and that was that.”

“I was easy?” she says, going all doe-eyed in surprise.

“He two-timed you guys like it was nothing. I mean he's my friend, but it's still a pretty asshole thing to do. What's it been? Six months?”

“Seven on Monday,” she says, looking intently at the toes of her shoes.

“Well, you had a right to know,” Logan shrugs.

“Does Erik know?”

“No clue.” It's pretty obvious just how relaxed Charles is about getting all tangled up in Erik's head. But it doesn't mean he's actually told him everything. Logan has been friends with Charles long enough to know that he likes to conveniently ignore problem topics.

Logan wanders off eventually to find Alex and Charles so that he can take them home before they get too hammered on ill-gotten booze.

 

 **SOMEWHERE ELSE**

The Bauer brothers descend on Erik like vultures, one on each side.

“What do you want?” Erik sighs.

“How long do you expect this to last?” Taylor asks. The only thing Erik can really do is shrug is response because he's not really sure himself.

“Are you going to get married and have mutants babies together?” Boar says, cackling in a disgusting, abhorrent sort of way.

“It's not as if it can last. You've got an agenda, don't you Lensherr? Falling in love just doesn't fit into the grand plan.”

“Go away,” Erik says darkly, finishing his beer off in one smooth go. They do as he asks, claiming that they need to check on the keg anyway. But even after they've gone, Erik can't quite get their words out of his head. After that, he goes to extract Charles from Logan's grasp and take him home just because he needs something to do other than drink and think.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting an update to prove I haven't abandoned this story. In fact, I'm almost done writing it. But I felt it would be best if I finished the thing first and then updated on AO3 in one go. I'm so, so sorry to anyone who's been waiting and thank you for all the kudos and comments and everything so far! When the time comes, I'll be reposting the *entire* fic which will include new and improved edits and will generally be more polished all around.
> 
> But for now, have a little taste of what's to come.

_ Chapter 23 – Precious Little Life _

Erik agrees to drive Charles out to some mysterious warehouse on the edge of town because it snowed the night before and the way the bus routes work it'll take him over an hour to get there.

“You don't have to stay if you have stuff to do,” Charles says once they get there, climbing off the back of the bike and leaning over to kiss Erik.

“Would you like me to stay?” Erik asks, returning it easily.

“I always want you to stay,” Charles says. He watches as Erik turns off his bike and pushes out the kickstand, fussing around a little until he's sure it'll be okay in his absence. It's actually kind of nice to see Erik care openly about something from time to time.

Charles turns around to go in and makes an undignified sound when a red-headed woman opens the door he'd been about to set his hand on.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Xavier,” she says mildly and steps back to let him inside.

“Oh, god, don't call me that. I'm not old yet,” Charles laughs, passing her and glancing over his shoulder to check on Erik. It's not that Erik needs to be checked on, but Charles just likes to look at him sometimes.

“You should get used to it. I expect your students are going to be calling you that,” she smiles, checking a clipboard and click-clicking away down the hall on tall heels.

“Students?” Erik says curiously. Truth be told, Charles hasn't actually told him about potentially having a job. He's not sure why he hasn't, he just keeps forgetting to mention it at the appropriate times. The most he'd said today was that Tony wanted him to help with a trial run and Erik had accepted it without asking questions. He tends to do that a lot.

“I got a teaching job,” Charles says, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. He needs another haircut.

“In a warehouse?” Erik says, quirking that tiny little smile that means he's teasing.

“No, at Stanford. But it's this long-distance project thing,” Charles starts to explain, but then Tony shouts his name and stands up from behind a big pile of wires and circuit boards and the explanation is lost in the flurry of things that happen next.

“Here, stand here,” Tony says gesturing at a circle in the middle of the room that appears to be drawn out in chalk.

Then he hands Charles a pair of something that appears to be a cross between glasses and goggles with thick, circular frames. He puts them on and says, “how do I look” at Erik who only snorts and looks away to hide his amusement.

“Okay, turning them on,” Tony says and flips something. Suddenly, what Charles sees through the glasses isn't the room he's in, but an entirely different one. It reminds him a lot of the times he's looked through the eyes of other people, but that doesn't stop it being utterly disconcerting.

“Stay there,” Tony says, grinning and running off into the next room and into Charles' field of vision. Apparently, the glasses make it possible for him to see into another room and as he tips his head around, glancing from right to left, the glasses do a pretty impressive job of keeping up. There's a little lag, but he knows that Tony doesn't stand for things like that and it will be fixed before long.

“What an adorable lab rat you make, Charles,” Erik says, circling him and grinning like a wolf.

“Don't spoil this for me, Erik,” Charles says and smiles back.

“Oh, I've been a lab rat. I know one when I see one,” Erik says, pointing at his chest even though Charles can't see.

“I can see you two flirting. Stop it,” Tony yells from the next room. Once Charles has taken off the glasses and stepped out of the circle, he learns that the other room contains an advanced projection system that uses several cameras and some assorted machinery to render and project a three-dimensional, real-time version of Charles' body into the next room. It's a bit like the holograms from science fiction movies. He's half tempted to ask Obi-Wan for help.

“Do I have to stand in the same place the whole time?” Charles asks. He can if he has to, but he'd much rather be allowed to wander around and gesture emphatically. He feels like he'd probably be that kind of teacher.

“Eventually the cameras should follow you if you move. The system will render other objects and probably a blackboard too if you want,” Tony says. Charles can already hear him thinking about calibrations and other technical jargon Charles only half understands.

“You didn't really need me here today, did you?” he says with raised eyebrows.

“Just showing off,” Tony says with a wink. “But you can give me suggestions if you want to feel important.”

“Make the glasses better looking. I don't want to look like an insect.”

“Charles? Caring about fashion? This is a first,” Tony announces.

“I care!” he protests. Erik starts laughing next to him, and Charles pouts as he says, “I feel utterly betrayed.”

 

**ERIK'S APARTMENT – November**

“I have to go to work. I'll bring home dinner,” Erik says, standing up to put his dishes away.

“Okay,” Charles hums. Books and loose sheets of paper are strewn across the table in front of him. Apparently, he's busy trying to come up with a syllabus for his future students. He's taken classes and plenty of them, but Charles has never, ever even considered teaching a whole class by himself and be barely know where to begin. It's a lot harder than preparing single day lectures has ever been.

“Can you do the dishes?”

“Yes, of course,” Charles replies, looking up from his notes at last to give Erik a goodbye kiss.

Erik pulls on warm gloves and one of Charles' scarves which happens to be by the door. Erik never expected to settle into this kind of silly domestic bliss so easily. It's not perfect, living with another person will never be perfect, but it's closer than he ever in his whole life expected to get. It's the kind of comfortable feeling where he can do something like take Charles' scarf without asking and know without worrying about it that Charles won't mind. He's been thinking about his life with Charles a lot lately and every time there's this funny little feeling in his stomach that he can't quite identify. It's not like the aching, beautiful love in his chest, but the two do seem to show up together a lot lately.

He comes home with enough groceries to make dinner and feed them through the next few days. Charles looks as though he hasn't moved all day, but the kettle is in a different place and there are a number of used teabags in the trash.  
“Surviving only on tea now?” Erik says, setting the plastic bags on the counter.

“Er...” Charles says eloquently, blinking up at him like he's only just noticed Erik is in the room. He rubs his eyes and marks a place in a book as he says, “you're home already? Are you making dinner now?”

Erik pulls out an ancient book of recipes that's falling apart at the spine. Charles ambles up behind him and learns, as he leans against Erik's back, that it used to belong to Erik's mother. By rights, it should have fallen apart entirely by now, but Erik has managed to bind everything together with little bits of metal. It's just enough to keep it in one piece.

“That sounds delicious,” he mumbles in response to the recipe Erik is thinking about.

They end up making dinner together and despite, or perhaps because he's been reading about genetics all day Charles can't stop talking about the subject, chattering away happily as Erik listens in silence and chops vegetables.

“Charles, do you ever think about Jean?” Erik says quietly when Charles stops to take a breath.

“Not usually. Should I?” Charles says, glancing at him.

“Seems like you got over her quickly is all,” Erik shrugs.

“It's been a few years, you know,” Charles says, making that confused, half-smiling expression he often does when he's trying to figure out why someone is saying something.

“Stay out of my head,” Erik tells him with a little more coldness than he intends.

“Sorry,” Charles says, turning back to the stove. “But I don't need to think about her. I've got you now, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Erik says and thinks,  _ that's the problem. _

 

_ Chapter 24 – Can't Face Up _

“I can't hear the hi-hat,” Logan complains.

“Then your ears are retarded,” Scott snaps.

“Don't be a bitch,” Logan snarls.

“Can we hear the song already?” Charles complains. He's been sitting on the bed with Alex for what seems like hours watching Logan and Scott fight about the levels on one single song. They're both wearing big, studio headphones so Charles and Alex can't even hear anything and aren't even sure why they're hanging around.

“In a minute,” Logan says.

“Dude, you've been saying that for over an hour,” Alex whines.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Okay. We're having an emergency band meeting,” Logan says, standing up suddenly and leading the way into Alex's room.

“You want to have practice?” Alex says incredulously once Logan has described what he wants from them.

“I think I'm hallucinating,” Charles moans from the bed.

“We were hallucinating when we started a band in the first place,” Alex grumbles.

“We have a show. Sunday. There, I said it,” Logan says, crossing his arms over his burly chest and looking between them.

“This Sunday?” Alex says.

“Oh, God, we're so fucked,” Charles moans, flopping over onto his side in defeat.

They try to practice a song, and two and a half minutes of suck later, Logan and Alex are forced to agree with him.

 

**THE NEXT DAY**

Charles meets Erik after he finishes work and they go to get pizza.

“Oh, man, they've started serving the Bauer Brothers stuff here too,” Charles says, making a face. It's perfectly decent beer, but he's biased against the makers and is, as such, determined to hate the stuff.

Erik buys them a whole pizza because he's figured out that it's the only way to get something fresh at this time of day and he might be able to convince Charles to eat the cold leftovers while he's away during the day. The evidence suggests that Charles keeps forgetting to eat while Erik is at work and he has just enough of his Jewish mother in him to worry about it.

“We have a show on Sunday. It's going to be absolutely terrible. We haven't practiced in months,” Charles tells him after they've chosen a table in the corner.

“What time?” Erik says on autopilot. It's a given that he'll go.

“Nine, I think. Logan thinks we should do Would You Like to See (Magic Trick) first but Alex thinks he should do Get In the Car because it's a better opener. What do you think?”

“I don't know,” Erik shrugs.

“If you don't remember which ones they are, I can--” Charles says, lifting fingers to his head only to be stopped by Erik's hand.

“No, it's fine. You'll figure it out. I don't even really like your band.”

“You don't?” Charles says. He's actually surprised by the admission, partially because he'd never picked it up from Erik's mind before now. But if he goes looking, and of course he does, he finds that Erik hasn't really liked the band all along.

“It's not a big deal. I'll still come to your show,” Erik tells him with a casual shrug.

“Okay,” Charles replies before digging into a slice of pizza.

 

**THE WAREHOUSE**

“Oh my god, he doesn't like my band,” Charles says, sipping at his canned beer and watching Tony fiddle around under a table. Charles isn't actually doing anything useful, but he'd gotten desperate enough for human company that day to brave the horrific bus ride to get here. He's not sure his braincells can hold any more genetics knowledge and class planning than they do now.

“You told me yourself that your band was shitty. Why are you worked up about Erik not liking it?” Tony says, pushing himself around on a flat, wheeled thing that Charles thinks it usually meant for working on cars.

“I don't know. It just seemed like he liked it. He always came to practice and stuff,” Charles says morosely.

“Charles, don't be an idiot. He likes you, but it doesn't mean your songs are music to his ears,” Tony tells him. He starts swearing shortly thereafter because he's burned his thumb on something.

“But he comes to our shows and stuff,” Charles whines.

“Yeah, to support you. Don't knock it,” Tony says, nursing his his dirty thumb with his mouth.

“I guess you're right,” Charles sighs resting his chin on his knees. “Do you think this means he's keeping other secrets from me?”

“I'm not the telepath here,” Tony tells him, getting up and going to get a lukewarm beer for himself before collapsing next to Charles. Tony hands him a perfectly normal looking, black-framed pair of glasses. d a little glowing power button on one side. Charles wears them the rest of the time he's there just because he likes them and Tony laughs at him for it.

 

**THE SHOW – Something like 48 hours later.**

“Is Erik coming?” Alex asks him backstage.

“Yeah. I don't know why though. He doesn't like the band,” Charles sighs pitifully.

“Are you really that dumb?” Alex says, standing up and brushing himself off because they're about to go on. Charles looks up at him, a little confused, but then he realizes even without reading Alex's mind that he's thinking the same thing Tony said: Erik is there for him and him alone.

“WE ARE THE X-MEN,” Alex screams from behind his drums and starts slamming his sticks together. It's the normal opening, but the problem is that Alex is counting for Get In The Car and Charles and Logan are ready to play Magic Trick. It's not destined to be a good combination.

Elsewhere, Erik is skulking along through the crowd looking for some of their friends when he notices that Moira is following him. She's surprisingly stealthy about it, all things considered, but he notices anyway because he's Erik and Charles likes to assert that he was some kind of crazy assassin in another life.

“What do you want,” he says, turning on her suddenly.

“We need to talk,” she says, standing taller and facing him down.

“So talk.”

“I'm still deciding what to say,” she admits. Erik huffs and turns to leave again, but he's stopped by Moira's hand on his arm.

“Are you still set on fighting me for Charles? This is ridiculous,” Erik snaps at her.

“You stole him with your advanced German charm,” she says with a little frown.

“That doesn't even make sense. Look, get over it. He's over it. He's good at that,” Erik says, pulling his arm out of her grasp.

“Yeah? Who will be there to help him get over you,” she asks, staring at him with eyes that seem almost sad. He remembers the little girl who attacked him in the library and thinks that this is definitely not the same person. He's half tempted to fight her for real this time just to prove something.

“It's amazing how little sense you make,” Erik snarls. “I wish I was half as devoted to anything as you are to him.”

“Oh, don't even. You're so much worse than I ever was,” she snaps back. It strikes a chord for one reason or another and Erik only just keeps from strangling her with her own jewelry.

“He cheated on us, you know. Both of us,” she tells him like it's some big, terrifying secret.

Erik actually does storm away then. He goes straight for the bar and downs more alcohol than he probably should in a very short space of time, drowning himself in the sound of music that's not very good. He can hear the moments that Charles adds some backup to Logan's rough, growling singing. It's all he can focus on and he wishes it bothered him more that Charles is the only thing he can think about these days.

 

**THE WAY HOME**

“That was terrible,” Logan groans as they walk down the street through the fresh layer of snow on the sidewalk.

“Worst fucking show we've ever played and that's saying something,” Alex says vehemently. Charles is pretty sure he wants to spit in the street, but he broke Alex of that disgusting habit long ago by giving him painful little psychic kicks every time he did it.

“At least we had a good time?” Charles says, trying to sound cheerful.

“Go die,” Alex and Logan tell him together.

“Oh, fuck, I think I forgot my keys,” Charles says, patting down his pockets.

“I said I wouldn't let you in the next time you did that, didn't I?” Erik says, sounding far too serious.

“Yeah, but you were joking, right?” The grin slips off of his face slowly as Erik looks at him without a hint of amusement.

“Oh, right, okay. Small house. I get it,” Charles says, struggling more with every moment to keep the smile on his face. “I'll just sleep over with one of my friends.”

He ends up going to see Sean because no one else will have him and he's not fond of the idea of staying with Tony while Erik is upset about something. It's worse because Charles doesn't even know what the problem is and lately Erik keeps telling him to stay out of his head so he can't just go find out.

 

_ Chapter 25 – Sebastian Shaw _

“Well, sorry he kicked you out,” Sean says as he prepares tea for them both.

“He didn't kick me out,” Charles says, “he just needs some time. Small house, you know how it is.”

“Charles, I lived in one room with you for years and never kicked you out because I was feeling pissy,” Sean says, pulling two steaming mugs of hot water out of the microwave and putting teabags in them.

“But you did kick me out a lot so you could have people over. Also, we weren't dating,” Charles points out, taking the one that Sean hands to him. “Also, where's this super secret boyfriend I haven't met properly yet,” he says in an attempt to change the subject.

“He had a meeting on the astral plane and left me his body to play with,” Sean deadpans, playing with the string on his teabag.

“Can he do that?” Charles says, blinking at him.

“No, you idiot. I'm kidding. Besides I have your body to play with now,” Sean leers, reaching over to ruffle Charles' hair.

“Don't you dare,” Charles says, ducking away.

“Does he keep you loose for him at all times?” Sean leers.

“What? No. Sean that is absolutely obscene,” Charles splutters, gawking at him. It's almost like Sean has somehow gotten worse since Charles last saw him.

“Shame. Well, anyway, I got some information for you,” Sean says, digging through a drawer as though he hasn't just suggested something completely embarrassing and licentious.

“The Bauer brothers?” Charles asks. Two can play the normalcy game.

“More than that. Remember when you asked me about someone called Shaw and I told you there are probably thousands of Shaws? Well there's only one Shaw that has ties to the much easier to research Taylor and Boar Bauer and the “gentlemen's club” called The Caspartina.”

“I would hug you if I wasn't scared you would molest me on the spot,” Charles announces, a grin spreading across his face.

“That's probably good. I'm not wearing anything under this robe,” Sean laughs, pushing a folder across the table. Charles rolls his eyes and flips it open to find a glossy, slightly bury photo of man with a charming smile.

“It's not good though. He's wanted in several European countries for counts of murder, torture, theft, extortion, you name it,” Sean sighs, leans on the table and watching Charles.

“Fuck,” Charles says quietly, flipping through a bunch of legal paperwork in several languages that he assumes contains all the things Shaw has been accused of.

“Yeah. Apparently, these Bauer guys have been accused of being his accomplices a few times, but it never sticks. They just slide right out of everything and Shaw disappears just like that.”

“But what are they doing here now?” Charles says slowly. It's not like this town is the best place for some big crime boss to come and do his work, not with New York so close by.

“Your guess is as good as mine. But I'm willing to bet it isn't charity work,” Sean says, stirring sugar into his tea.

“What has Erik gotten into?” Charles moans, sipping as his tea and making a face because he's forgotten to add anything to it and it's disgustingly bitter.

“That's a really good question. Maybe you should ask. But Charles, have you actually thought about the future here?” Sean says, looking him in the eye.

“Like with jetpacks?” Charles jokes.

“No, with Erik. I know you haven't even been together for a year yet, but it's disgusting how much you love him. Are you going to live in that rental forever or go figure out how to have mutant babies together or what?”

“Jesus, Sean, I don't know. I read minds not the future,” Charles moans, giving him a plaintive look. He doesn't want to think about things like that. It's utterly terrifying to even consider and much easier to ignore entirely.

“Well you should figure it out,” Sean shrugs. He leaves it at that, much to Charles' relief, and allows the conversation to shift to lighter things.

 

**THREE DAYS LATER**

“Listen, Charles, I like having you here but we've only got the one bed and Warren is coming home today,” Sean tells him over breakfast.

“I can use the couch? I'm short, it'll be fine,” Charles says, spooning Captain Crunch into his mouth.

“The couch is against the bedroom wall,” Sean says, giving him a meaningful look.

“And that matters because...oh,” Charles says, flushing a little.

“We're noisy,” Sean continues, “very noisy.”

“Okay,” Charles replies, standing up to put his bowl in the sink.

Charles calls Erik and although he doesn't pick up, Charles leaves a message anyway.

“Hi, Erik. I think I'm outstaying my welcome with Sean, and Tony is probably the only person who will host me right now. I'm fine with giving you more time, as much as you want, really. But I know how you feel about him, and, well...” He trails off, not entirely sure what to say after that. So he finishes with a lame “love you. Bye” and hangs up.

Five minutes later, Sean's cellphone pings and he yells “Erik says to come home” from the next room where he's watching Project Runway. Charles' smile is brilliant as he runs to collect his coat and wallet.

 


End file.
